The Slave Boy 02


I slowly slid down the wall, hugging the supplies to my chest. I couldn't breathe. Air was coming to me in frightened little sips.

Haagan slowed and halted, breathing heavily and rubbing his hands slowly. He glanced over and saw the wary horses. He stood there with his bloody gloved fists held together, breathing heavily, he looked down at me, and it was like he saw me for the first time.

"Aro..." He panted.

"Y-Yes?" I breathed.

He walked over and pulled me up by my upper arms. He held me tight to him. I could barely stand, so I found myself going limp, letting him hold me up. I buried my face into the warm softness of his cloak. I could feel a sob building up in my throat like floodwater behind a dam. I held it down, I didn't let it escape.

"Kitten..." He whispered into my ear. "I'm so sorry. No one is going to hurt you ever again."

He said more, but I lost it. I bawled into his chest. I burrowed under his cloak, hid my head. I clung to him. He held me, shushing me gently, stroking my hair.

He eventually broke my grip and helped me onto Abba. He tied the leather bag onto the packhorse, but not before digging into it. He took out the bundle of cloth that I had numbly shoved into the bag. It was a long quilted cloak lined with caribou fur. It was colored a soft bright lemon-yellow. He gave it to me, and I clasped it around my neck and wrapped my shivering body in the amazing warmth.

"Thank you Haagan." I whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He clasped the hand in his, not saying anything, but looking up into my eyes.


We stopped when we had gotten far enough from Talrun to stop seeing farms. He hobbled the ponies to the trees, and helped me to dismount.

I didn't have to worry about where we stood. He treated me like something precious. He wouldn't even let me walk by myself, leading me to a knuckle of white stone to sit on. He padded the stone by laying down his padded leather jerkin on the cold surface. He started a fire close to the stone, and asked me over and over if I was warm enough.

The horses pawed snow away from the dried yellow grass to nibble. The fire was warm on my hands and exposed face. Haagan was digging for food in the saddlebags, before cursing roundly.

Somehow, we had forgotten the food bag. The bag hadn't been very full, only some bread and cheese for the last meal before we got to Whitthorne. But it still frustrated Haagan. He walked back to me with empty hands and a scowl.

He stopped about ten feet away and looked down at the snow, frustration written all over his face. "Aro, stop looking at me like that."

I nearly fell off the rock.

He shook his head and sat down next to me. "That's what I mean. I'm not going to hurt you just because I'm angry at that pig-fucker. Or because I forgot the fucking food. Stop looking at me like you're afraid I'm going to bite you."

He put his arm around me, and I melted inside.

"Sorry, Haagan." I whispered. I leaned into him, and his stomach rumbled. I couldn't help myself. I started to laugh. When I saw the puzzled look on his face, I laughed harder, curling up on the rock to hold my aching stomach.

I had never laughed this hard. Not in years. He sat back slightly, watching with a raised eyebrow and a faint quizzical smile. "It's good to hear you laugh." He murmured, putting his hand on the back of my neck. I shivered. I was sensitive there.

"Um... The food doesn't bother me." I murmured, nuzzling into him. "I still feel full from last night." He chuckled, and I flushed when I realized the double-entendre.

"Of course." He purred. "You haven't had a decent meal in years."

Flushing at my own daring, I leaned into him and put my hand tentatively on his thigh. "Um... We don't have any food... But... um... There's something else that I can... that you can feed me." I felt like my blush would set fire to the warm hood of the new cloak.

He took a hold of my wrist and moved it higher. When I felt the bulge of him through his trousers, I felt my own dick twitch in the tight confines of my clothing. He put his other hand under my chin and lifted me up so I could kiss him.

His lips were soft, his beard rough and wiry, his tongue moist and eager. I could feel him taking off his gloves, and then he was pushing his warm hands through the seams of my clothing, under the waistband of my trousers to grasp my swollen throbbing member. I mewled into his hot mouth as I tried to duplicate him.

Instead, he moved me, carefully lifting and lowering me, pushing me so I was on my knees in front of him. My trousers were unlaced and my throbbing cock was free and bobbing in the frigid air. I pulled my shirt down to cover my poor chilly member.

Haagan unlaced his trousers, and I watched mesmerized as his thick cock popped free of it's constraints. I rested my hands on his powerful thighs, and leaned forward, ready to meet his cock like I had the first time I had sucked it. I stuck my tongue out and lapped at the tip, tasting his precome. He groaned softly, and put his hands over mine, pinning my palms to his legs. I opened my mouth wide and slid down on his cock, engulfing as much of it as I could in my mouth.

I choked about halfway down. It wasn't the length that was the problem, though he did have a long cock. It was the width. I could barely get my mouth around him, so it was gratifying when he growled his arousal. I moaned around him. I wanted to be able to get more of him, to conquer him, if that made any sense.

I released his cock for a moment to breathe. I ran my tongue up and down him, lapping up the saliva that had drooled form the corners of my mouth. When I got back on him, he growled and cupped my head in his hands.

He was gentle, but insistent. He pushed my head down on his cock, helping me to open my throat. I gagged and had to back away the first time. I rested my cheek against his thigh for a moment, breathing. He tucked my hair behind my ear and stroked me cheek while I rested.

I tried again with more gusto, and then, somehow, his entire cock was in my throat. My mouth was pressed against his pubic hair and my throat felt full and bruised and ready to burst. Haagan swore softly and bumped his hips, chafing my swollen throat and making me gag.

I pulled off gasping for breath. I didn't stop to rest, I wanted to continue. I bobbed up and down on his cock, reluctant to sink so painfully deep. His skin was so warm. The tender skin was throbbing under my lips.

I drooled on him to lubricate him for my throat. I rubbed my saliva into a slick coat over this hard proud cock, and I lunged down on him, burying him in my throat, tearing past the gag reflex.

He hissed and moved my head up and down. "I'm going to come, Kitten... I'm going to come in your mouth!"

I let out a strangled mew of excitement, right before he came in my mouth. His come was warm and creamy and bitter, filling my mouth in spurts that dribbled over my lips.

He stroked my cheek. I sucked on his softening cock, trying to get all of his creamy come in my mouth. On our first night, he had forced me to swallow it, but now I wanted to. It was just another reminder, another way for me to show my affection for him.

He put his hands on my shoulders and lunged, pushing me under him, on my back on the hard snow, with him over me. But the cloak protected me. The thick warm cloth wrapped my body, and I still felt warm.

Haagan crushed me under him, and kissed me hard, I could feel his hand squirming between us, caressing my aching needful member. I breathed in muffled moans. I explored his hot mouth, my face burning and my body throbbing.

He hesitated. He straddled me, his knees on either side of my hips, his face above mine, his one hand supporting him, and the other stroking me in a way that was slow and tortuous. Since he had lifted himself slightly, the cold air was whispering across my exposed cock in a way that felt exquisite and just short of painful. I tried to lean up and kiss him. Why had he hesitated?

He took his hand off of my cock and I moaned. Instead, he put both hands on my hips and moved down. I sat up, supported by my elbows, gasping and confused, the wind freezing my face and playing with my hair.

Then all of the strength left my body and I went limp with a high-pitched little gasp. He was sucking my cock. My cock was surrounded by hot wet warmth, and his head was bobbing up and down on my cock. I could see his lips, where they made a seal around the long slender shaft of my cock. Then my head was falling back. I couldn't handle the level of sensation. I arched my back, panting, gasping. "Haagan! Haagan! HAAGAN!!"

I spoke his name out loud, tasting it, I rested my hands on his head, careful not to push down. He reached down into my trousers and caressed my testes through the soft wispy hair that grew on them. His rough fingers down there, caressing that tender part of me... it drew me over the edge.

"Haagan, I'm going to... I'm going to..."

Haagan withdrew and stroked my slick cock with his fist. I felt the wind on my wet semi-exposed cock and the shocking sensation made my gasp and pump my hips into the air, slicking his hand and my stomach with droplets of feverishly hot come.

He wiped me with a cloth and tucked me back into my trousers, tying the laces and pulling my shirt down. I waited for him to be finished, and then I looped my hands around the back of his neck and pulled him down so he was on top of me. I hugged him tight to me and wrapped my legs around him. I buried my face in his chest.

He chuckled and gently broke my grip. "I don't do that very often. If I can help it."

I nuzzled against his chest, my heart still pounding. "Thank you. I'm not hungry any more."

He let out a deep belly-laugh and got up, pulling me up with him and brushing the snow from my cloak. He embraced me tight to him, pulling the folds of his red cloak around me. I felt like I was in a small hot fur tent. My head was nuzzled under his chin and I could feel the pulse in his neck. It was so warm.

"We better get moving, we have a ways to go."

I love you. I mouthed the words into his shirt. I didn't have the courage to speak them out loud.


Whitthorne was so big. It was surrounded by a massive crumbling wall, but the farms extended far beyond the walls. We were riding around the south wall, and I could see slaves working. I saw a dark-haired woman repairing a leather harness. She bobbed her head to Haagan, and gave me a shy wave. I passed a slave bowed under the weight of a bundle of split wood on his back, but he was trailing behind a Master carrying as much wood, if not more. I saw a gaggle of dark-haired children running around, playing.

"They look so happy." I said, awed.

He pulled back so he was riding side by side. "There are still slaves that suffer like you did, but yes, Boris does treat his chattel horrendously. There are some rules in Whitthorne."

He didn't elaborate. "Like what?"

He shrugged. "You cannot beat a slave with a rod thicker then your thumb, or beat children of less then five winters. A slave that is raped can be compensated. Children younger then twelve cannot be separated from their families. A few others. Do you see that farm, there?"

He was pointing to a farmhouse. In the nature of Nord houses, it was built so a good half of it was underground. The part that rose above the ground was short, barely a few feet taller then I was. The roof was of thick recently-thatched hay. No smoke rose from the thick stone chimney, but there was a large woodpile of fresh-cut wood. The fields around it were covered in snow. I could see a well, and a shed for animals that connected with the house. Other then the fresh-cut wood, the place looked deserted. Only a few token lines of tracks ran through the snow.

"That's our home Kitten. I had one of my neighbors, Nils, cut the wood for me, and set away some supplies for when I returned. We'll put the ponies in the barn, I'll report to the Jarl, and then we can go out and buy the animals and seed for when spring arrives."

My heart felt swollen in my chest. Tears stung in my eyes. The way he was talking... he said 'we', and he was talking about preparing a life for both of us. He saw the tears in my eyes and became concerned. "Aro... What's wrong?"

I wiped the errant tears. "I'm sorry, nothing's wrong." My voice was so choked up. I was the least convincing person in the world. "I'm just... I'm just happy."

He smiled. "I am too, Kitten."


He had to help me off of Abba, I was so sore. The shed was made up of two or three corralled spaces, as well as a corner piled high with baled hay. He took a five-tined pitchfork that looked like a clawed hand to scoop down one of the rounded bales. Each bale was a good hundred pounds, and watching the way his muscles flexed made my mouth dry.

He broke up the bale and put some of it into a trough with the ponies. He rubbed each of them down with a practiced hand and I helped to bring the tack inside the farmhouse.

The shed connected to the farmhouse, with only a curtain between the two. The connection to the farmhouse would help keep the animals warm, and their body heat helped to warm the main house.

The main house was cleverly built. The top floor, the one that rested above the surface, was used mainly for storage and workspace. It was better lit, with windows that could be opened. Now they were tightly shuttered against the cold. A narrow stairway went down one wall, and then I was down in the living area.

Haagan didn't light the fire, but he did light an iron lamp. It was a round reservoir with a narrow metal tube rising gracefully from the side. A wick was fed down the metal neck of the lamp and the flame at the end burned higher and brighter and cleaner then candles. I was able to look around my new home.

The bed was a large frame of dead wood with tight flat leather thongs stretched in between. He didn't yet have a mattress on it. The floor was of polished wood, except around the fireplace where Haagan must have searched far and wide to find flat smooth stones to pave it. Resting inside the fireplace was a small stack of dry cut wood, and several pots and pans and an iron cooking spit. He held the lamp up high so I could see the rest.

There was a polished table of excellent craftsmanship, the legs were in rough natural shapes but the surface was polished smooth, and with the grain. The walls were of stones held together with rough mortar. One part of the wall was different, it was covered with strange iron fastenings.

He saw me looking and Haagan smiled. "I can't do it yet, but if the Jarl grants me my wish, that's where I will hang up my armor and sword. Hopefully, they'll stay there forever, gathering dust. But I need them in case another war starts, or if someone attacks Whitthorne."

I shivered and embraced him. "What do you think Kitten? What do you think of your new home?"

I only hugged him tighter. "I love our home."

He kissed the top of my head. "Bundle up warm, we're going to walk to the Jarl's keep."


We walked over the drawbridge to get into Whitthorne. The city was built to outlast a siege. There was no moat, as I had pictured. But Haagan told me that each of the entrances had a deep spiked pit and a drawbridge. That way the gates couldn't be forced by a battering ram when the drawbridges were up. Guards in bright green tunics walked over the walls. More guards patrolled the streets.

I was astonished. Some of the buildings in Whitthorne were houses or taverns or shops, but most of them were warehouses.

"The city of Whitthorne hasn't been overrun in centuries. It can hold the entire population for a year if it needs, the warehouses are full of last year's grain. No one with a strong back and half a brain goes hungry in Whitthorne."

The crown of the city was a stone keep. It was low, only two stories tall, but it had a defensible roof and it's own protective wall. It was the second line of defense if Whitthorne was breached.

Once we got to the keep drawbridge, a burly man with a bushy blonde beard came up and gave Haagan a rough bear hug. The man was seven feet tall at least, his mane of hair restrained in braids and rough tangled locks. I waited timidly a few feet away as they greeted each other.

"Hey Branagh, I didn't expect you back from the southland so soon!"

"Or you, you dog! Where have you been, and what are you doing home!"

Haagan snorted. "I've been at the coast, fighting off pirates and legionaries. On my way back, there was a feast at Boris Strong-hammer's. I took one of the poor boys off of his hands. This is Aro, Aro, this bear is my cousin, Branagh."

I bobbed my head. "Hello sir." I whispered, suddenly timid.

Branagh looked confused. He pointed at me and asked. "Wait, is he gonna be your..."

Haagan sighed and nodded, amused.

Branagh's beard crinkled in a huge smile, and the next thing I knew, I couldn't breathe and I was hoisted into the air in a massive bear-hug. He was going to crack my spine.

"Welcome Aro! You're practically part of the family!"

He set me down and I wheezed "Thanks." I couldn't help but smile. It was the first time that someone other then Haagan was treating me kindly. Even if he had nearly crushed me in the process.

"Well, the Jarl is eating with his wife and mistresses right now, but he wont be bothered if it's you. Just need to take your pig-sticker there."

Haagan had left his big iron sword at home, but he always carried a big knife that he called a dirk. I had seen him use it once, it was a long tapering blade, like a triangle, made of steel instead of iron and about a foot long. He untied it from his belt and gave it to Branagh for safekeeping.

"Also gotta check you both, you understand." He shrugged as if to say that he didn't make the rules. Haagan nodded and stood with his legs apart and his arms lifted from his sides. I mimicked him. Branagh felt his arms and sides and inner thighs for a hidden dagger, and then me. I tensed slightly when he touched me, flinching. But he was gentle and matter-of-fact and it was over very quickly.

Haagan clapped Branagh on the shoulder. "You should come with us when I'm done. I'm going to celebrate with some mead and supper at The Warmaiden, and you should be there."

"I'll be there! We have to get little Aro some mead! It will make him grow big and strong, like me!"

I giggled, and he let out a big guffaw of laughter from his gut.


The main hall of the keep was high-ceilinged. The Jarl was an older man with dirty greying hair swept back from his face with a bronze circlet embedded with shiny knuckles of obsidian. The keep reminded me uncomfortably of my last home. It was less crowded then it had been at the party, but the room had a good thirty or so people in it, including four harried slave girls. They were well into their meal, and the Jarl was booming with laughter, telling a dirty joke at the top of his lungs. His voice was so slurred that I only caught words here and there, but it was about a 'southland slut' and a 'darkie'. Everyone was laughing.

I flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and shame and anger. I walked right behind Haagan, feeling diminished. He gave me a reassuring smile. I was glad that he wasn't laughing at the joke, that he realized how uncomfortable I was.

The Jarl garbled a punchline and the crowd laughed. I suspected that most of them had no idea what he was saying.

Haagan stepped forward into the main hall, and the Jarl saw him. A stupefied grin spread across his face. "Haagan the Fierce! Back from the shores and in my halls! You, get him a drink you silly wench!"

The girl couldn't have been more then fourteen. Shoved in a tight dress that had been torn at the sleeve. She ran to him with a flagon full of beer, her eyes downcast and full of tears. Haagan declined respectfully.

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