The Viking’s Conquest

51it9gzs5l“Drop the fruit. I want to hear your voice whilst you’re spanked.”

In a moment of uncharacteristic obedience, I widen my mouth a fraction and release the soft flesh of the fruit. I watch as it falls the short distance to the floor underneath me, along with a humiliating quantity of my drool. Relief washes over my jaw as it can now finally relax, although I wonder what Anders will have in mind for me next.

“Good,” he says from over me. “Now tell me, do you know why you are to be spanked?”

I flinch as he vocalises my predicament, as though hearing it out loud somehow reaffirms the sheer ignominy of it.

“I…” I pause, trying to make myself say the words. “I am to be spanked because I spilled your drinks, my Lofðungr,” I say eventually.

“True,” Anders replies, slapping the cheeks of my behind. The impact is not hard, but is just enough to wake the flesh around the area, summoning the blood there and sending the message to me: this is mine. “And why did you spill the drinks, Aurelie? What function were you serving?”

I cringe inwardly, knowing he intends to revel fully in my disgrace. “I was your table,” I say in the smallest voice possible.

“My what?” he asks, raising his voice. “I have never known the lady be so coy before this moment!”

“Your table, my Lofðungr,” I reply, pushing back the humiliated emotion that threatens to surface.

“Yes!” he cries, finally satisfied with my answer. “A table for holding my refreshments. You had one purpose only: to hold the tray of drinks and Aurelie, you failed, my sweeting. You failed in the most spectacular fashion!”

The old indignation rises in me. “I am no table!” I spit, my voice now full of venom.

He lands a hard smack against my upturned cheeks, the sound swilling around my head before the sting of the impact even registers.

“You are mine!” he says evenly. “Mine to do whatever I please with. The sooner you come to learn this, the easier your new life will be, my lady.”

He smacks me again; not full-throttle this time, but I know he means it. I take a sharp intake of breath at the impact, willing the pain to be done so that I may experience a little of that odd arousal the previous spanking had produced. A further three smacks ensue. The loud sound of his palm connecting with my flesh echoes through the confines of his quarters. I lie here over his knee, forced to accept this new dynamic: Anders, the foreign invader, now apparently the master of me. A man who can chain me up, and use me as furniture at his will.

I push against the pain as he spanks me again. The sheer force of my own obstinate pride somehow makes the process easier, although there’s no denying it does hurt. My behind feels red and inflamed already and I have no idea how long Anders intends to keep me here.

“Are you beginning to understand?” His voice booms from someplace over my head. It sounds oddly distant to my ears.

“Yes, my Lofðungr,” I say through gritted teeth as yet another smack lands across both cheeks, but even as I speak I know I do not mean it.

“Tell me then. Let me hear your learning, Aurelie. What are you?”

He pauses the spanking, perhaps to allow me to speak and I take a deep breath. Can I really say these things just to appease him? I consider my position: naked, chained, and over his lap. What choice do I have?

“I am yours, my Lofðungr,” I say, trying to detach myself from the words.

“My what?” he says, stroking the hot area he has punished.

I bite hard on my lip again, despising him for reducing me to this. “Your property!” I spit the last word out as though it threatens to choke me if I keep it inside.

“Hmm,” says Anders and I swear I can hear him smiling. “Better—but I do not believe that you mean it. Not yet anyway…”

He draws my body back a few inches from the hips, so that my aching core rises from his hard body and I am effectively bent over him from the waist.

“Spread your legs,” he says softly.

With extreme reluctance I move myself into this new, even more humiliating pose. My breasts, previously crushed under my weight, are now freed and swing softly beneath me. My face is also now less concealed and I unwittingly catch his smiling gaze in my peripheral vision. I look away at once, but not before he has noticed my error. Leaning forward, he wraps my unruly hair toward my right shoulder, exposing my face, now burning with the shame and excitement I am feeling.

“Look at me,” he commands sensually.

Slowly I turn my head ever so slightly to the left and look unwillingly into those smirking blue eyes.

“I have a feeling about you, Aurelie. Shall I share it with you?” he asks casually.

I stare at him, unwilling to answer and play his game. I can feel the old defiance rising to the surface for just the briefest moment. When I say nothing, he spanks my behind again. It feels harder from this position somehow. The sound is different and the sting feels crueller. My previously fleshy bottom is now stretched into a new stance and unbelievably I think I miss the reassurance of his body heat. I am even more exposed this way.

“Answer me!” he snaps, his hand connecting with my skin again.

“Please share it, my Lofðungr,” I reply, my voice breaking ever so slightly as the fresh pain registers.

There is a pause and I fear that he will choose to just continue spanking me like this, and then finally, he speaks again:

“I have a feeling that you actually like being treated this way, my lady.”

I look at him, my eyes no doubt sharing the indignation, resentment, and disbelief I am feeling as I register his words. How in Donrose can he know this about me? These are feelings that I myself had never known until this day!

“You’re wrong,” I splutter, but we both know I don’t mean it.

“Really?” he asks, spanking me again. I squeeze my eyes shut at the new impact, before opening them again. Anders has moved in even closer to my body in the interim. I notice for this first time that he too appears to be a little out of breath, and I wonder if this is exciting him as well. “So you don’t want me to touch your body then, Aurelie?”

His hand moves to within an inch of my left breast as he speaks. Sensing his approach, my already hard buds contract even further, betraying my need.

“No,” I say, continuing the reassuring pretence that I do in fact not want him anywhere near me.

Ignoring me, his hand finally reaches my breast, cupping it gently at first, before moving his fingers south to the nipple. I gasp as he circles it and then grabs the end, tugging at it hard. Despite my veil of disgust, his touch feels astonishingly good, goading my body. My head falls forward, no longer able to contain the desire I feel. Wordlessly he moves closer, reaching for the right breast and repeating his treatment of the left. Both nipples tighten in excitement, silently begging him for more.

A soft moan leaves my lips before I can contain myself. He laughs at the sound and I mean to chastise myself, but already my whole entity is fixed on where his hands will explore next. The left hand that had so ruthlessly, yet beautifully, tormented my breasts, runs a line down my midriff, over my tense belly to the hot, damp patch of hair between my thighs. I take short, shallow breaths, my hands planted firmly on the wooden chest beneath us, as my mind races at the sensations he creates. Anticipation about what he will choose to do next courses through me. I gasp aloud, wondering how I can possibly permit these actions to continue. At the same time his other hand spanks me hard again, sending my body into a trembling mess. The reverberations travel through my growing wetness, to where his left hand waits. Slowly he presses his palm against my skin, pushing through the soft hair, into the moist folds trembling below.

By Felicity Brandon on Twitter @FelicityBrandon and on Facebook.

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