Pressure

Note: Because Icelandic is the closest modern language to old Norse, I will be using it to represent the Norse tongue. Translations are at the end of the story if you want them.

In the deep of night, the only sounds in the village were ones of the wild. Nelda listened intently to the bog, hoping the soft croon of ducks and hum of insects would lull her into a restful night. She knew it was a fruitless hope. Thoughts of the morning buzzed relentlessly in her head.

Tomorrow the King's men would come for tribute and Nelda would not have what they ask. Would they find the grain and furs she'd hidden away? She barely had enough for the winter. Nelda could only hope they were satisfied with the goods she'd laid out. It wasn't much, but it would still be cutting into the winter rations. The wooden shutters above her bed picked up the wind and began to rattle and bang against the side of her tiny cabin. The sound amplified her anxiety and she almost wished Lord Eahlstan was home. She had been sold into his service when he was quite wealthy. He was cruel, twice her age, and had a habit for drink - but if he were here, it would be him the soldiers beat instead of her.

Nelda sighed, sitting up onto her knees. She shivered at the breeze blowing straight through her night gown as she pulled the shutters closed. Lonely and anxious, Nelda flopped down on her stomach and released another long sigh into her pillow. As her eyes fluttered shut, she noticed a new sound. Nelda lay still, listening.

Was it the wind? No. It was garbled and disturbingly like a human voice but Nelda couldn't make out any words. Could it be a night jar? Or an owl?

The beginnings of fear rolled in her stomach. Was someone outside? She listened more closely, waiting for flapping wings or more wind. Before Nelda could panic or think, the cabin door flung open with such force and noise that she could not hold back her startled cry. The locked door landed hinges-and-all on her tidy floor. Three men with torches flooded into the cabin, their silhouettes hulking within the tiny frame of her home. Nelda's scream immediately drew their attention and one came stalking toward her. Without thinking, she jumped up off the floor and swept up the wood axe by the fireplace. She held it aloft, ready to swing, and could see by the light of his torch that he was draped in furs and resting his other hand on the hilt of a sheathed sword. Raven-dark hair was swept into a skull-tight braid and his thick beard adorned with beads. Nelda was slightly envious of the thick furs on his shoulders, protecting him from the cold autumnal night. Colorful metal rings on his knuckles distracted from the white scars that marred his hands and she thought of the women in town whispering about demons from the sea who took what they pleased and burned everything else.

"Misstu það," the scarred man said flatly. His words were nonsense to Nelda but he stared her down with the eyes of a predator. These were not the King's tax collectors.

When he started toward her she took a frenzied swing at him but the axe only grazed his bicep. He snarled and cold terror washed over her. For a moment Nelda could not tear her gaze from his oozing blood, which looked black as pitch in the torchlight. Once again she raised the axe at him. Nelda refused to die like this after all she had survived.

She was stunned to feel the handle slip from between her fingers as a hand ripped it away from behind and shoved her forward. She stumbled straight into her adversary. The scarred man easily locked her arms at her sides in a bear hug and she writhed against his steel hold, bucking against him like a frightened animal. He was seemingly unhindered by the wound she inflicted and laughed breathlessly.

"Þetta helvítis sárt."

He whispered the words close to her ear. She shivered at the sensation of his beard against her neck though Nelda did not understand him. He walked her back to her bed as she continued to struggle and threw her to the thin mattress belly-down. She let out a scream of indignance when the scarred man pinned her with a knee to her lower back and wrestled her arms behind her. He forced her arms into a crossed position with her forearms pinned one on top of the other. With deft hands, he wrapped and knotted a rope around them made from fibers that made her skin feel raw and sensitive.

Nelda tried to roll when he stood up off her and he rested a boot on the small of her back, shoving her down into the straw mattress. He spoke firmly to her. Nelda did not understand his words but she got the message: don't move. Her intuition told her to obey but rage swirled in her throat as she watched the other two rummage through her things. They crammed what little food and drink she had into bags and pockets as they chatted and tore her home apart.

Nelda looked back at the scarred man, who didn't seem as interested in her things. The man was admittedly handsome but equally as intimidating. He stood over her, watching Nelda closely. The glint in his eyes made her nervous. His gaze rested where her thin gown had ridden up so she could feel the cold night at the very peaks of her upper thighs and she suddenly began to hope that they just took the food and went on their way.

As the man looked her over curiously she reasoned through the options in her head. Nelda was quick and knew the bog well. She would be free as soon as she slammed through the door. If she reached the neighbors, they could help her. The raven-haired invader was the only thing standing between her and escape while the other two were taking what they pleased. She glanced at his sword, which still lay sheathed at his side. His gaze caught hers and she held her breath.

"That hurt." He said simply. The man smirked and pointed meaningfully to his wounded arm. Nelda reeled for a moment before she could speak.

"Can you understand me?" Nelda intended to sound demanding but her voice wavered and her eyes were wide. He folded his arms and stared her down, that smirk still on his face. Her jaw clenched in frustration. Well, he knew at least one word.

"Hurt?" She asked, this time softly. The scarred man crooked a brow up and looked her over. He shook his head at her, finally.

"Nei. No." He stepped toward her and Nelda swiftly rolled to her knees, pressing her back into the cabin wall. Her mind was clouded with panic but she remembered the shutters above her and wondered if she could squirm through the small opening with her arms roped behind her. There was no better time to try than now. Without thinking any further, she launched herself up and tried to dive head first through the low window. Nelda felt a glimmer of hope for freedom when she got her full upper half outside. The hope was almost instantly dashed by the sight of her neighbor's home across the rocky creek, glowing brightly with the flames consuming it.

With her plan in flames, Nelda felt dizzy and her struggles were half-hearted when the man's hands landed on her hips and dragged her back inside. One of his scarred hands landed on her ass with a reverberating THWACK before he dragged her close and scolded her in his tongue. The sharp pain of his bare hand and humiliation of hearing the other two laugh at her predicament stoked the fire of her pride and she slammed an elbow into his ribs. The invader only huffed and wrapped an arm around her middle, pinning her close to him before sitting them both back down on the ground. One of his calloused hands wrapped around her throat when she tried to bite him and Nelda continued writhing in his lap until he squeezed. His fingers pressed into either side of her neck until she began to feel dizzy and light.

Nelda understood him clearly. He was the one in control. She took a couple shaky breaths as she forced her body to stop fighting. When he loosened his grip, she remained unmoving in his arms. Nelda could feel the man's hardness against her back.

"Nei..." Nelda mimicked him, shaking her head, and he chuckled. Memories of Lord Eahlstan's rough and painful attentions whispered through her mind and she swallowed against his hand.

"No hurting." He said softly. He rolled them both over on the mattress, covering her body with his. Nelda's flesh suddenly felt hot despite the cold night and she was surprised at how pleasant his warmth was. When he tried to press a knee between her legs, she clenched her thighs together. He smirked and instead bent to sink his teeth almost painfully into her exposed shoulder. A quiet gasp only encouraged him. His tongue darted out to soothe over the area before he moved up to her neck and did the same, this time taking the time to suck and nibble at her throat like he wanted to devour her. Nelda was spinning, as stunned and humiliated by his actions as she was desperate for more. As she lay dazed, he nudged her thighs apart with a knee.

Nelda started to protest but her thoughts drifted away like smoke when he pressed the knee against her core. She wasn't sure she wanted him to stop anymore. When her hips twitched against him and a small sound escaped her, the invader pulled away from her neck. He sat up and pressed a knuckle firmly into her inner thigh. The pressure wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable enough that she reflexively drew away and unintentionally spread herself open to him. He took the opportunity to insert himself fully between her legs.

The panic began to rise again when he withdrew a small blade from his belt. She felt faint when the tip of it pressed against the flesh of her thigh. He spoke again but Nelda would not have heard him even if she could understand. All that she could focus on was the pounding heartbeat in her ears and the cold metal inches from her soft core. When he drew the knife up to her gown and began sawing through the fabric Nelda's fear became something else. Something new.

She watched him with wide eyes as he worked, never once leaving a mark on her skin with the blade. Nelda's breath was heavy and although he no longer had her pinned down, she was completely still. The invader looked his work over, seemingly satisfied with the shredded night gown. Despite her situation, Nelda found herself craving his approval as he gazed over her exposed body. She bit her lip, watching his expression closely. The hunger behind his eyes made her blood pump and she felt her cheeks warm.

The way her arms were bound behind her forced her back to arch and chest to jut out, which was an obscene display now that the chill from her open window had made her pink nipples stand erect. He gave her a crooked grin, then reached out and gently tweaked one until she whimpered. Nelda was surprised that the cry was not one of pain, but of need. Her body responded to his touch in a way that was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. She pressed her hips up, spreading herself as open to him as she physically could. He hummed his approval, palming her breasts in between gentle slaps and pinches.

He was hard as steel and pressing his length between her pink lips with insistence, the texture of his wool trousers making her hips twitch. When he began grinding against her, the friction of the wool on her tiny bundle of nerves made her groan and Nelda met his movements in kind, rolling her hips into the motion. He bowed his head and began suckling on an abused nipple. The way his tongue poked and slathered and flicked her sensitive bud made her squirm but when he took one between his teeth and tugged she let out a sound she didn't know she could make. It was loud and primal and hungry. Nelda wanted him to bite her, slap her, touch her. She didn't care whether the sensation was pain or pleasure - she needed it. She was in such a state of ecstasy that she had not noticed when the invader dug his erection from his trousers and lined himself up with her tight, wet hole. When she felt him nudging against her, Nelda begged.

"Please, God, please..."

"Please?" He taunted, a wicked grin on his face. Another word he knew, apparently. He massaged her entrance with the tip of his cock, paying special attention to her sensitive bud. When she tried buck into him, anything to feel him inside of her, he pressed his palm into her belly and pinned her to the thin mattress. With a cruel grin and heaving breath he pressed and rubbed and poked her, never allowing her the satisfaction of penetration. Nelda squirmed and writhed and just as she felt herself creeping towards ecstasy he stopped. A whine escaped her and he gripped her jaw, pressing his fingers to her lips. Nelda understood and opened her mouth to him. He jammed three fingers between her teeth.

"Þegja." He snarled the word and her orgasm came simultaneously when he slammed his full length into her, leaving her overwhelmed with the sensation of fullness. For a moment, Nelda thought she would pass out beneath him but he started to drag in and out of her and instantly her need came back full force. He rocked into her with slow, deep strokes. Her whimpers were muffled by his hand but the sound of his satisfied groans made her burn with need and she ground into him, meeting each stroke so that he filled her completely. The overwhelming sensation reached a new, unfamiliar height. Nelda's thighs quivered and shook and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him against her as she ground against his pelvis. She was desperate, but for what she had no idea. It had never been like this with Lord Eahlstan. Nelda was dazed and foggy as she came down from her high, enjoying the sensation of fullness as the invader continued fucking her roughly before spilling his seed deep inside her. She could feel it pumping into her and leaking out around his thickness.

Vaguely, Nelda was aware of being wrapped in her woolen throw before being scooped into a pair of arms. The heat and glow of flames registered in the back of her mind, but she felt like she was in a dream. The warmth of being held tight against a fur-draped chest almost instantly soothed her into unconsciousness after a long and restless night.

"Misstu það" : Drop it.

"Þetta helvítis sárt." : That fucking hurt.

"Þegja": Shut up.