The Norseman Ch. 08

Standing between her legs he shook his head at the sight of tethered form. He released her ankles first and instinctively she closed her legs, slowly, struggling with the bindings, he released her wrists and she was free to move. Her fingers were cold and stiff with restricted blood flow, and her limbs ached. She wondered momentarily if she might be able to run, but her legs wobbled precariously when he helped her up off the chest, and she knew she would be lucky to make the door before they caught her.

Din lifted her easily across his shoulders leaving her spliced dress behind, and as he carried her many hands caressed her rump, touching the soft smooth flesh. One even tried to slip a finger into her folds, but Din whisked her past the hands to where the guests had earlier been sitting.

"Here's better! I am too old to scrabble on the floor, even for pretty pussy!" He placed her on a soft, wide seat and gazed down at her, appreciating the dip and curve of her young body, trailing his huge fingers down across her breasts, across the hard point of her nipple and down across her belly. He kept his eyes on her as he dipped his fingers lower and they found her hidden place.

Emma forgot the sounds from the room beyond her; they were eclipsed by the singing of blood in her ears and the increasing urgency of her breathing. As he slipped on enormous digit into her, sliding easily on the streams made by other men, she felt her breath catch and the deep itch of desire raised itself again.

Din smiled to see the need in her eyes, and in the rise and fall of her chest, and he reached into his clothes and brought forth his swollen shaft. Emma felt her mouth open involuntarily at the sight of it. She could not have put a measure on its length, and it hung heavy from his garments, thick, veined and purple at the tip. It protruded from a thickly haired base with two enormous sacks which hung low, heavy with seed.

In spite of herself and her position she felt herself wanting it – wanting to take this enormous thing into her mouth and taste it. To feel the heat of it on her lips, to lick at the glistening droplet she could see on its tip.

It seemed that Din shared her thoughts and he stepped forward to meet her, holding her head to support her as she opened her mouth widely for him. She tasted the tang of salt and felt the heat and the urge in the pit of her belly deepen. Afraid to lose his chance too early Din withdrew from her mouth after only a few moments and she obligingly spread her legs wide to invite him in.

The nudge of his enormous cock at the mouth of her channel took her breath; she could feel the gentle teasing open of her folds, his bulbous head sliding easily against the creamy fluid still draining from her. As he rocked gently forward, his heavy body looming above her, she was opened wider and wider by the determined and welcome force of his thrusts.

The tension was there to be reawakened, and she thought of the candle she had used only the day before. The feel of hot, hard flesh between her tight walls reminded her why she needed to feel a man here, rather than in the place Stefan had preferred. She had managed to make Stefans pleasure her own for a while, but she knew now that the need she had – that need that lay like an animal in the pit of her belly – could only be quietened by the feel of a heavy flesh shaft pressing hard against the neck of her womb.

She bit down on her lip, her eyes locked on this new man, trying to hold back the sounds she longed to let free. She wanted to grunt and mew and buck against him – but she thought of the onlookers as they watched her bought to pleasure by the biggest cock, when she should have been fighting against it and her shame kept her still for a little longer.

Din called out, she balked, thinking him come, but he was hailing the young lad who had shed himself on her face. He was at her side in a heartbeat, holding his slight cock in his hand, hard again already.

With just a little discussion they indicated to her to move and allow the lad to take the seat behind her. They bid her kneel in front of him, with Din still held within her. Stefan's tutoring told her exactly what lay next, and feeling beyond reason with the need to be satisfied she allowed the young man to slip his fingers across her. He gathered the slick fluids from her, and as he did she felt his fingers drag gently across her nether lips and contact for a moment with what was buried between them.

She felt the now familiar probing of her tight bud with a smeared finger and a moment later the nudge of his probing head at her anus.

Din held still, and she was gripped by an aching frustration to be filled and yet the delicious wait for the friction to begin again. Agonisingly slowly the movement began again, the two men working together to allow the lad to inch himself into her tight rear, whilst Din worked her gently back and forth.

The sensation was astounding. She felt herself rocked between them, the feel of their heat across every inch of her body and the scent of their sweat filling her lungs. She was aware of every place where their bodies touched hers and with every movement she would feel the rasp of hot skin or the silken touch of loosened hair.

Between her legs she could barely make sense of the sensation now, the feeling was so complete and overwhelming. She could feel the motion and the gentle dragging of skin over slippery skin. The thrust of cock, harder with every stroke, filling her so fully. The sensation of both men moving separately, but so close together, and the rasp of both of them against her dividing wall.

She rocked there between them watched by others, envious of their rapture, listening to the howling cries of Cwen as she rode above the prone body of one her esteemed guests, her face contorted and her body showing no pretence now, just her desperate need to bring herself to climax.

Held there, the feel of two men's hands upon her, their grunting sounds growing she thought she could stand the feeling no longer and that she might soon explode, but Din was ahead of her and she howled in frustrated abandon when she felt the streams of heat fill her as he came. With just the young man behind her she knew she had missed the best of her sensation and felt robbed, but as Din slipped out of her, deflating swiftly, the woman who had kissed the come from her face knelt before her and in a moment snaked her tongue between the folds of Emma's stretched pussy.

Emma could no longer hold back and her cries rang out and she bucked forward against the woman's beautiful, smeared face. The power of her orgasm was almost painful, tearing at her, wrenching together the walls of her channel, knotting and releasing low in her belly, and with every motion, spearing herself deeper on the cock in her rear, feeling the doubling sensation of tongue and shaft and loving the depravity of it with every fibre of her.

She still shook and rocked and mewed when she heard another sound in the great room. Standing in the doorway, surveying the scene of an orgy before him, was Gellir.

He swayed on his feet, reaching out to rest against the huge broadsword in his hand. He was blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear himself of the poisonous sleep his wife had drugged into him.

"Get away! Get away from her!" His voice was terrible and caught every one of the party and gave them pause. The man beneath Cwen tipped her unceremoniously onto the floor, his small, red member clearly visible as he hurried away from her, seeking to put distance between himself and Gellir.

"I am sorry, Sir! It was by invitation – but I realise how this might seem!" The man stuttered and stumbled, trying to stand with his clothes tripping him. Gellir looked addled and confused and shook his head again, as though finally comprehending.

"Not her!" He looked down at his wife, red faced and sweating, with disgust and stepped slowly and unsteadily past her. "Get away from her!" he spoke again, this time looking directly to the young man whose cock was rapidly losing girth inside Emma. He wriggled free from behind her, trying hard to cover his obvious terror, for Gellir, so impassioned, made a awful sight.

The woman had disappeared and Emma was there alone, her naked body marked by hands and smeared with sweat and the stains of sex. Her legs were still parted showing deep inside where her red heat still flared.

She thought of Cwens words – he would indeed have no need for her, used as she had been and in spite of everything the thought was like an arrow to her heart. All the pleasures she could have were nothing to the feeling she had had when he had come to her room and loved her as an equal all those nights before.

The bitter tears sprang to her eyes and she moved to cover herself. He lent forward, his eyes still glazed, but his face gentle. He touched her cheek with one finger, his touch so light she barely felt it, and then straightened.

"If there is any man who thinks they can take her then have them speak now!" The bellowing cry echoed around the room, a voice vibrated with anger, but also with an aching hurt and jealousy the gave her precious hope.

He swung the sword out before him, holding it at eye level, steady in spite of his malaise. He passed from guest to guest and locked them in a stare. No one would meet his eyes, and they turned, shamefaced from him.

The revellers left quickly and quietly, their own behaviour and the look in the eye of the host seeing them swiftly on their way, until there was only four people left. Stefan remained unconscious, possibly drugged and was carried to his horse by the servant, which left only one thorn Gellir needed to rid himself of.

Cwen reached forward, catching the hem of his garment and playing at tears. "Look what they have done to me, husband! What will you do now to assuage my honour!"

"Your honour!" he snorted "Your honour was lost before I found you, and don't think me mistaken about your part in this." He lifted her with one hand, by the hair and dragged her to her feet. He brought her face close to his and met her eyes, and even she shrank from him. He strode forward, pulling her to the door and, at his instruction, a horrified servant opened it wide, bringing a snowy gust of frigid air howling around the room.

With one enormous thrust he had turned her out into the night and the door was closed again, and for the second time in a day and a night Cwen was kneeling in the snow, unsatisfied.

Back in the Great Hall, the echo of the cold wind made Emma shudder. Gellir came towards her slowly. His eyes were clearer now, as though sobered by the breath of wintry air. He took Emma's head between his huge hands, cupping her face gently he kissed her softly, his beard rasping against her bruised mouth. He kept his eyes wide open, gazing at her in agonized wonder.

"Let me keep you." His voice croaked and tears welled in his darkened eyes. "Let me keep you, just for me!"

She could not speak; she could only feel the weight of her past lift from her. She thought, in a haze of remembering, of the burning of her homestead and the filthy, tortuous journey to these cold Norse lands. She thought with bitterness of Cwen and her manipulation and with indifference towards her time with Stefan. The pain and the fear and the isolation dropped away like a discarded cloak and she reached to hold Gellr, her hands pressing against his broad body, and now she was at home.

"I am just for you."

Thank you to everyone who has been following The Norsemen, and for your kind thoughts and positive voting. I am going to leave Emma and Gellir to enjoy their privacy (at least for now), but please watch out for future threads.

Clarabella