“Why?” Mikael could not stop himself from demanding. Last time he had known. She thought he was the weakest link, wanted to try and manipulate him into helping her escape. But he was sure after his little lesson with knife play and edging; she would never again call him to her bed. And that was fine by him; he allowed that little voice to lie.
The thing was – the way she said it. So loud. So clear. It was as if she had meant it. As if he truly was her choice. But he knew that was not possible. Or was it?
He covered the distance between them until he loomed large over her. “What? Do you want to taste more of the bad boy, Kirsty? Feel my knife drawing patterns on that damned ivory skin? Or maybe you need me to edge you a bit more this time? Push you higher and higher, closer and closer, but not let you quite get there. Until I am ready, that is?”
He loved the way her cheeks and neck could flame as brightly red as her hair. “What? Is baby brother’s knight in shining armor routine wearing thin? He not spending enough time with his pretty face buried between those soft thighs?”
Her quick intake of breath, the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot, and steadfastly stared at the floor gave him his answer. “Of course, we both know big brother only has one thing on his mind right now. Breeding his baby into your fertile little cunt,” he allowed his hand to drift lightly over her lower abdomen.
“Don’t worry. I have no interest in joining my brothers in sperm wars. One child is enough for me.” This time he did not allow her to hide from him as he lifted her chin until their eyes met. “I have other things in mind for you, dear wife,” he spat the words with all the vitriol he felt. “Strip!”
She shook her head or tried to as much as his fingers upon her chin allowed. “No is not an option now. You chose me. You follow my orders this night.” That thought alone should be enough to ensure that this was the last time she called him.
But he was not ready to keep things so simple, “You have two choices now. One, you strip as I told you.” He trailed the finger of his other hand from her cheek down her neck to the deep V of that damned jumper that plunged so fucking low to reveal the soft swell of her tits. “Or I cut them off you,” he whispered almost against her lips. “And you know I will too.”
His hand trailed lower to the underside of her breast. He cupped it and squeezed firmly. She gave a sweet gasp and jumped just a bit, enough to tell him that he had her full attention now. “Of course, I might not want to play ‘daddy roulette’ with my brothers, but that does not mean I won’t enjoy the fruits of their labors. These tits will be mind-blowing once you get pregnant. And nursing their son? Fuck woman, with these, well, I am sure the little one won’t mind sharing now and then.”
He chuckled at how wide those expressive eyes could get. So, he had managed to shock her; he liked it. He wrapped his arm about her waist and bent his head. He used his tongue as he would his blade to draw a winding trail across her alabaster skin. He could spend hours playing connect the dots with those freckles and his knife.
He shook his head, reminding himself that was not the point. If her first taste of the bad boy had not been enough to scare her off, then her second would surely be. And that was what he wanted, right? To be left the fuck alone. As long as she was kind to his child…what the fuck did he care about light brown dots that cried out to his warped mind to find patterns in their starry skies?
Had he not learned anything the first time? Marriage was not for him. If he could not be enough for Greta in a ‘real’ marriage, what kind of fucking chance did he stand in this fucked up ‘tradition’ that passed as one in his family? No, it was not a game he wanted to play.
He had enough trouble just stepping out of Svein’s shadow on Njörður’s Captive and in the minds of his father and their uncles. Of course, baby brother had always been the ladies’ favorite whether with their mother or in the clubs they sometimes frequented.
What would it take for him to learn? Hell, he could not even manage to earn his own child’s love and affection. Let alone this woman’s – any woman’s. He released her and stepped back. No, better to keep his distance. To make sure that she was never again tempted to ‘choose’ him.
“I said strip, and if you are not naked when I get back, then I hope you do not like that outfit. You have already cost Bjⱷrn his favorite shirt.” He reminded her of how he had cut his brother’s shirt off of her the last time. He left the rest to her imagination – a mind fuck – as he turned his back to her and walked over to the trunk against the wall.
Kirsty’s fingers trembled as she reached for the bottom of her jumper. Why did this man demand so much? Why the naked thing with him all the time? Sure, she had ended up naked in Svein’s bed that first time, but considering the man’s penchant for corsets and stockings, that had probably been more about making it harder for her to run away.
And while Bjⱷrn might have softened his command to put on his shirt that first night with the reminder that she would not go naked to any other first date, some part of her still could not help but see it as a rejection of her plus-sized body, especially from him. Hell, that shirt had stayed on the whole rest of that night…even when he…when they…
But time was ticking away as she watched him rummaging through that ‘pirate’s chest.’ And she did not doubt that he meant what he said. So, why did her nipples get painfully hard inside her bra at the thought of his knife cutting it away? Of its blade trailing across her breasts, she tossed the jumper on that chair, which looked more like a throne. Her bra followed quickly.
Her breasts felt painfully tight as she remembered his words earlier. How the hell had he managed to make something like pregnancy and breastfeeding sound so fucking erotic? Oh, she knew that it was to some men. Hell, she had cruised the fetish list at that site. Of course, that was one that she would have categorized as…your kink is not my kink. Until she saw the look in his eyes. For a moment, they had even softened to that wispy grey of a partly cloudy day.
Her fingers fumbled with the button on her denim mini-skirt. Maybe he was one of those types? Perhaps he had acquired a taste for such things when his wife was pregnant with Monica? But still, how could he find a pregnant woman sexy if the baby was not his?
And why did his assertion that he would not be joining the ‘sperm wars’ as he so indelicately named it bother her? Wasn’t she having a hard enough time with the concept of whether or not she might be pregnant? Let alone the burning question of Svein or Bjⱷrn? What was wrong with her that some part of her felt bereft that the child could not be Mikael’s?
She tried to push those thoughts away as quickly as she pushed the skirt and her tights down her legs. She saw him rise from where he had knelt upon the floor. His hand was behind him, so she had no idea what was in it as he walked towards her. She quickly tossed the skirt and tights towards the ‘throne,’ but they fell short and landed on the floor at its base.
Her eyes widened as she noticed those same thick metal rings through the mouth of dogs which curved upwards at the end of each arm. And another at the top of the damned thing. The roughhewn furnishings and dark paneling, as well as the low lighting, gave this place the feel of a… But what did she know? She had only read about such places in her books.
He laughed, and the sound reverberated around the room. “How the hell did you ever survive out there in the real world? Anyone could read you. Every fucking thought you have, it is all right there in your face. In those eyes,” he said as he came to stand once more in front of her.
“To answer that question, …yes. An ancient and probably priceless one. Hell, big brother could quit worrying about fishing if we ever decided to put this furniture on the market. None of us even know how old the damned things are, hundreds of years old for certain. But yes, those rings are meant for one thing and one thing only – to tie our captive brides to us.”
Kirsty gasped then, “Oh, that one is truly priceless, Kirsty. Yes, as much as my beloved brothers want to ignore it and pretend that it is not so, the way that my father looks at her sometimes leaves me very little option when it comes to overlooking the obvious truth. That our beloved and saintly mother was, or maybe still is, just as kinky as you are, my dear wife.”
Kirsty shook her head. She and Petrine had spent the afternoon discussing the ‘facts of life’ or, more accurately, the basics of polyandry – how it was possible for one woman to love more than one man. Of course, the topic of conversation itself had not been easy. Her own mother’s idea of ‘the talk’ had been to hand her the standard, NHS approved leaflet on puberty, menstruation, and how babies were made with a healthy dose of how not to make them thrown in for good measure.
She knew that Petrine sensed her discomfort a couple of times, she even commented on it once, something about she would keep it to the PG-version. They had certainly not talked about… About BDSM. About bedrooms that looked more like dungeons. Or anything of the kind. So, perhaps like Svein and Bjⱷrn, she could hope…believe…
But the twinkle in the woman’s eye when she looked across the table at Olav sometimes? Of course, the hardest part for Kirsty was reconciling the strong, stalwart woman with submissive. While the two women had taken markedly different paths and Petrine had a sincere warmth and openness that Nancy Dickens never would, her mother and mother-in-law were more alike than she wanted to think. She could not imagine the woman kneeling for any man…no matter how handsome or strong her Norse fishermen might have been.
“No,” she shook her head and whispered.
Mikael chuckled more softly this time. The sound brushed her cheek as he leaned in, “I have no desire to talk or think about my parents’ kink or what they might or might not have done in this bed right now.”
Her eyes grew wider as she caught the glint of the pale light on his knife. Her heart pounded, and her nipples tightened so painfully that she bit her lower lip as he ran the tip across her bare shoulder.
“Someone does not understand what the word ‘naked’ means.” Before she could open her mouth to protest, the edge of the blade was between her skin and the sheer lace of the knickers, which matched her bra.
With a quick jerk, the materials fell loose. He repeated the action on the other side. “Spread your legs, slut.”
Kirsty had begun to realize that Bjⱷrn might be right, that she might need to add ‘dirty talk’ to her fetish list. Although something told her that profile would be or maybe even had already been hacked. It would disappear from that site as surely as she had from her old life.
But she was not prepared for what that word did to her. Neither Bjⱷrn nor Svein had used that terms. If pussy, cunt, cock, twat, and their vivid descriptions of all the very naughty things they were going to do to her made her wet, then that word practically made her knees buckle. She knew that she should be offended. Perhaps even a tiny corner of her brain still was. But the way he said it.
He sighed as he leaned in even closer. “Is something wrong with your hearing, slut? I said open those sweet thighs. From now on, panties…knickers, you call them? They have no place in this house. Your cunt will be open, bare, for us. Do you understand me?”
Kirsty swallowed the knot that was choking her as she obeyed. The scrap of lace and elastic fell into his hand. He brought it to his face. She held her breath, and the room began to spin as he placed it over his nose and inhaled. “Wet and ready already, my sweet whore wife?”
He tossed the scrap away without even looking where it might have landed. He shoved her back onto the bed. Those eyes were once again as dark as the blackest storm as he leaned over her. Her heart thudded with fear and excitement as she climbed on to the bed and scooted backward until her head hit the solid wood of the headboard.
He followed her, crawled inch by inch across the mattress, looming larger than life, his eyes holding her gaze the whole time. She put up her hand then, reaching for his chest, thinking that perhaps she could try talking…reason with him…somehow. But suddenly, the rope that had held the curtains back was around her wrist as he cinched it tighter, drawing her arm back to rest against the headboard.
She shook her head and tried to reach for it with her other hand, to loosen the bond. But that only made it worse as he captured that hand as well. He wedged his large body more fully between her thighs, spreading them apart…though not as indecently as the spreader bar that he had used that first night.
“Mikael, please…” she began.
His knife-blade lay flat over her lips, “Too late for talking, Kirsty. The only words that matter this night you said already… ‘I chose Mikael.’ Everything after that is no longer yours to decide.”
“Did my sweet mother forget to mention that part of this warped tradition? Oh, she likes to think that choice is some special gift, but the truth is…it is just a matter of to whom you surrender. But you very much surrender – submit with those words.”
“And tonight, if never again, you choose to submit to me, and I intend on pushing you beyond any limits you ever imagined. Make this a night that you will never fucking forget, dear wife.”
Kirsty wished with all of her heart that her hands were not tied then. Not for the reason he might have thought. Though his words were harsh, his tone guttural, she was almost sure the man had no idea how much of his pain he revealed with them. If he had, he would have never said them.
‘If never again’ alone told her all she needed to know about this man and come what may, no matter what his worse was – no matter what – she promised herself that she would not prove him right again. Not this time, not with her.
She sighed; there was only one way to accomplish that. Surrender. Fully. Completely. Totally. Not just the natural part of her. Not just for her pleasure. Not out of curiosity about this lifestyle that she knew next to nothing about, except what she had read in those books. No, her submission was the only way. And slim hope that it was, it was still better than none.
She closed her eyes for a moment. She sought something deep inside of her. A place she had never gone before – not with Svein…not even with Bjⱷrn. A place that was frightening in and of itself. A place where she was even more vulnerable than her naked body on display for this man. She willed herself to fight through all the doubts, all the insecurities, all those voices that warred in her mind.
She willed them quiet. She found peace in surrendering herself. It was strange – odd did not begin to cover it – but the words that flitted through her brain were those that the priest would say as she knelt for assembly on Friday mornings, ‘Not my will, but thine be done.’
When she opened her eyes, they boldly met his as she whispered the two magic words he needed most, “Yes, Sir.”
‘Fuck her,’ Mikael’s mind screamed. That was not the response he wanted. Fear. He wanted to see that fear in her eyes again. That he could handle. Not this. This…willingness. But she would not get off so lightly this time.
“Kirsty, you know there are other options, things I can do to that responsive little body of yours,” his eyes held the challenge. “Last time I edged you. Pushed you right to the point and then denied you.”
He bent lower and took one of those impossibly hard nipples between his teeth. He bit down upon it to test the lengths to which this woman was prepared to go. While she jumped and squealed at first contact, he felt her body go limp beneath his, the fight drain from her. He wanted that fight, so he fought back harder, pushed more.
“Maybe this time instead of edging you, I’ll try forced orgasms. Make you come over and over and over again until your body cannot take anymore. Would you like that, dear wife? Would you like me to play this sweet body?” His hand trailed over her soft skin. He watched tiny hairs stand on end and felt her shiver.
But when he looked back in those damned expressive eyes of hers, it was not fear that he saw but need – pure lust. “You would. You would like to come and come all over my face, wouldn’t you? You loved having that sweet pussy eaten, didn’t you?”
There it was, that look, maybe not fear, but embarrassment. She even started to turn her head in denial, but she could not. Instead, she dropped his gaze and whispered, “Yes, Sir,” once more. It fuelled his fires.
“That is not enough, though; I want more this time. I am going to make you come so fucking hard that you squirt.”
That did it. Those eyes snapped back to his and blazed – that fear – and its light twin excitement. “Oh, I see you have been exploring the dark side. Reading Popular Kink, were we? Heard all about women who come so hard that their pussy juice gushed like a river from their cunts?”
He reached up and laced his fingers through her hair. He pulled hard until her head banged against the headboard, “You would not mind seeing me drowned, would you? Go ahead; I dare you, wife, drown me in your sweet cunt juices.” He could see her chest rising and falling so quickly that he doubted that oxygen exchange was possible.
“Why wait? It is not like you need me to play with my knife to get you warmed up now, is it? I bet that if I put my hand between your legs, you would be soaking wet already? Aren’t you, my sweet slut wife? You can’t wait for the bad boy to use you, can you?” he demanded, not expecting a response.
“No, Sir. Use me. Take me. Do what you want with me,” she whispered breathlessly.
It was a challenge, like waving a damned red cape in front of an angry bull. She had no idea what he wanted. But before this night was over, he would show her.
“Open your fucking legs for me, slut,” he savored the tiny hesitation. Was it because she was embarrassed at how accurate his assessment was? Or was it that word?
Honestly, he had been surprised that she had not objected to it. But he recognized the slight cringe each time he used it. He knew he probably should not. Knew that she was not one of his whores or the wizened subs that he met online or in the clubs. They were easy. Safe. This woman was neither. But perhaps if he used that word often enough, he could make himself forget that.
But she did not hesitate long as those sweet thighs spread open to him, like doors opening on a palace. He matched actions to words as his fingers found the slick folds of her cunt. She was most definitely wet. But not wet enough.
He pushed his fingers deep inside of her and watched those eyes widen as a soft moan escaped her throat, then they shut. Those expressive blue pools were denied him. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against her mound. He could almost feel her clitoris throbbing beneath his touch. It was not his main interest at the moment, though.
It did not take him long to find the thick ridge of tissue, the nerve center of her sweet pussy, her G-spot. He was not gentle, that was not what this job needed, as his fingers lunged against it, putting pressure upon it. Pressure, release, pressure, release. But this one did not need a warm-up. Her body knew what it wanted as her hips arched up off of the bed.
“That’s my good slut. Come for me. Come harder than you ever fucking have,” he was tired of the games with this woman. He knew what he wanted. He shifted position on the bed so that he lay on his stomach between those soft ivory pillows. He did not allow her to come down from that pinnacle, though, as his fingers plunged in and out, out and in.
He felt the muscles inside her cunt squeezing. He could not help but imagine what that would feel like around his cock. ‘Damn her,’ he would not allow himself to go there. Not with her. Not with his wife. He would not let another one lie and use him. He would not be vulnerable like that…ever again.
He bent his head. Buried his face next to his hand. His tongue had no problem whatsoever finding what it sought. The damned thing was swollen and impossibly hard. He bit down around the tender flesh for a moment. Held it captive between his teeth, just as she was their captive. He swirled his tongue around and over it. The damned thing was almost as hard as his teeth around it. His fingers kept up the deep, fast pace that was careening this woman straight towards what he wanted most.
Damn it. Still, it was not enough. If he would not allow himself to bury his hard cock inside of her, then the least he could do was substitute his tongue. Tongue fuck her and taste those pussy juices from the very source. He pushed her thighs back, angled her hips, and tried to get a better position. But she was moving too much. He could not get the angle he wanted.
He slapped her ass cheek, “Be still, bitch.” Her body jumped in his hands. He used his hand once more to lift those sweet cheeks, tilt her pelvis up to meet his mouth. The problem was to get just the right position he needed both hands. But then his fingers could not be buried knuckles deep in those wet folds, pushing her higher and higher.
“Fuck,” he spat around the hard throbbing flesh between his teeth. He needed more hands. And while he knew where four more could easily be found. He was in no fucking mood to share.
Honestly, he might not ever be. It was not like after this; he would get the chance very often. Only when she got desperate enough for a taste of his darkness. There was no fucking way he was going to share even one of those rare occasions with his brothers.
Besides, she was barely coming to terms with their fucked lifestyle as it was. There was no way she was ready for that kind of thing. He frowned…would she ever be? Probably not, but he would think about that later. He was not going to waste what precious time he had with her, thinking about his brothers.
But there was another option. Reluctantly, he abandoned his efforts. Those eyes flew open the moment he released her sweet cunt. He wanted to laugh at the very pouty face she made…as if someone had stolen her favorite toy. He shook himself; he would never be that. He was merely the bad boy — the one in the middle, as always.
He was not sure if it was that thought or the need to wipe the pout off her pretty face, which made him slap her mound. He smiled at his near-perfect aim as the tender flesh pinked. As worked up as she was, he knew that the blow landed right on her swollen clit. The shocked and pained expression only confirmed that fact.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he joked as he stared at her bound wrists. Her skin looked so fucking pale against the dark wood. He scooted off of the bed and knelt before the trunk once more. While the tiebacks for the drapes might be long enough to secure her hands, it would take a longer length of rope for what he had in mind this time. But it was no problem finding that.
He smiled at the length of soft, flexible leather, which caught his attention as well. Leave it to baby brother to make sure the damned toy box was nicely restocked for them. But then again, the kid had been planning this for at least a year.
He still could not figure out why his baby brother wanted any of this. With his face and body, he could have easily been a male model or actor. With his fucking brain, he could have gone to just about any university in the world. Why the fuck did he stay? And especially, why the fuck would he ‘want’ this sharing crap when he could have any fucking woman he wanted…all to himself?
Mikael stopped that line of thought before it went in a very dark direction. Right now, the only thing he wanted to think about was the man’s excellent taste in toys. And perhaps gloat a bit, since he was certain Bjⱷrn figured it would be he, who first got the chance to introduce ‘their wife’ to the pain of the tawse. But Mikael would have that pleasure.
He made sure that she could not see the tawse, but her eyes grew full at the rope alone. “Since you cannot seem to remain still for me to munch on that sweet pussy, I suppose the only solution to make sure that you cannot move,” he answered with a smile as he laced the rope through the ring in the center of the headboard. He evened it out and knotted the two strands together behind her neck.
He held up her hair and positioned the knot in the hollow at the base of her head. Then he brought both ends around and crossed them in front around her neck. Her eyes widened even more as he chuckled. He reached down and pushed her right leg as far forward onto her chest as he could. He wrapped the rope on the left side around her thigh a couple of times, securing it with knots before he fed it through the same ring on the right side of the bed.
He repeated the process on the left side before lifting her fabulous tits, running the ropes just under them so that it lifted them even higher. He stared into her eyes as he ran his fingers under the place where the lines crossed, almost exactly over her Adam’s apple. Like this, there was plenty of room; her airway would not truly be restricted at all. Just enough pressure to entice and enthrall, a not-so-gentle reminder of her vulnerability.
He held her gaze as he brought the tawse up from where he had half hidden it in the folds of the quilt. He brought it down, solidly on her Venus mons. It was still slightly pink from the one ‘love tap’ he had given it earlier. But this was enough to send blood coursing to the area, reddening it even further.
It was also enough to make her jump. To try and lower her legs…for that rope to tighten about her neck. And those large eyes told him that she realized it too. He reached down and replaced the tawse with his knife. He ran it across her cheek as he loved to do so fucking much, never enough to break the skin, of course, or even to leave a mark of any kind. Just enough to get her attention and raise a thin pink line, which faded quickly.
He ran it slowly down the side of her face and neck to where the rope crossed. He slipped it just under the top one and tugged. Not enough to cut clean through, not even to weaken it enough for her to break free. Just enough that he could finish the job in a single quick slice; if he needed to.
He leaned over her, staring into those wide eyes as he whispered, “Trust me,” against her lips.
She nodded her head, but that too tightened the rope, impeding her airway, just a bit so that when she did reply, it was a deep, throaty sound that made his hard cock twitch inside the tight confines of his jeans, “Yes Sir.”
“Good girl,” he said. The words were out before he had time to consider them. Once uttered, he could not take them back. He would be more careful about opening his mouth in the future.
Of course, there were other things he could be doing with his mouth, especially now that she was positioned just the way he wanted her. Those soft, creamy thighs with their trail of light brown stars were spread so fucking wide that he could practically see inside her tight cunt.
He could not resist running his fingers around the rim of it just a bit. “I think you are even wetter, slut. Is it the rope? Mine might not be as pretty a design as big brother’s, but it gets the job done, doesn’t it?”
She tried to nod her head once more, but quickly reconsidered that, “Yes, Sir.”
His cock twitched again, damn the woman.
“Or was it the pain?”
He dropped the knife on the bed, close enough that he could reach it quickly, though. He picked up the leather and used it as he would have his blade to draw pretty trails along the inside of her thighs. He smiled as he noticed the thin brown line at the very top of her right one. The place where he had cut her last time was healing nicely. His mark. He could almost still taste her blood.
And he could most definitely still taste that sweet pussy on his lips. He chuckled as he remembered the teasing he had taken when he grew the facial hair – flavor saver – or was that savor? Both probably, especially with her cunt. But before he got back to that one…
“Do you know what this is, Kirsty?” he asked as he held up the tawse.
She shook her head, and he chuckled. They were going to have to work on some of her bad habits. But there was no need for him to correct her about poor manners when the rope around her neck did the job for him, “No, Sir.”
“Tawse. Have you heard of them?”
This time her head remained still, but those eyes flared open, and her pupils dilated, “I’ll take that as a yes then.”
“Since you are practically a virgin to pain, we shall begin slowly. See what your threshold is. But like I said, I will push you beyond your limits.”
He watched as she swallowed, as her top teeth chewed that bottom lip, “Yes Sir,” was her only response.
“Five. We will begin with five. The barehanded and that last one don’t count. Those were warm-ups, understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He caught himself this time before those words were out of his mouth. “You will count for me. It should not be too much trouble this time since we are only going to five, but so that you know, if you lose count, we start over from the beginning. Understood?”
The “Yes, Sir” was a bit quieter and longer coming this time. More reluctant. But it came nonetheless. Just as he was going to make her, once her sweet pussy was red, raw, and even more sensitive than it usually was.
He took pleasure in pushing her just a bit further then. “And good girls always remember their manners. Thank their Doms for the pain. Do not forget the words, ‘Thank you, Sir’ after each.” He grinned broadly as he added, “Or we start over from one, do you understand me, slut?”
“Yes, Sir” were her words, but he far preferred the slight tremble he felt in her thighs that told him far more than words ever could.
He gave her no warning as he brought the leather down right in the very center of her shaved mound. She jumped at first contact, and he watched as the ropes tightened around her neck, but she quickly forced her body to relax, “One. Thank you, Sir.”
He fought back the need to smile as he repeated the process, aiming just a tad lower this time. Again she could not stop her body’s shock response but was even quicker to recover this time. “Two. Thank you, Sir.”
This time he adjusted the angle of the leather in his hand as he brought it down right over the opening of her tight cunt. She squealed this time as well as jumping. “Three. Thank you, Sir.”
She closed her eyes and bit down harder on that bottom lip. He hesitated. Not because he had any intention of stopping. He said five, and he meant five. That was another lesson his ‘wife’ would have to learn: no one played him anymore.
Of course, if he honestly believed she had reached her limit then, the remaining ones could be softer. Baby brother had even wisely purchased a toy with a soft sheepskin on the other side. But he was not to that point yet as he drew out her trepidation.
He saw her peak beneath those closed eyelids as if checking to see if the next one was coming, but he just leaned back on his heels and laughed, “What? Are you waiting for something, slut?”
She shook her head and whimpered, “No, Sir.”
“Good, then, you should not mind this,” he replied as he brought the tawse back down on her Venus mons. He could tell that he had managed to catch her clit perfectly this time by the deep, guttural, and mindless moan that escaped her lips.
He reached out and ran his palm across her flesh. It was warm to the touch. He scraped his fingernails across it, and she flinched. Oh yes, his slut wife was not only more responsive than they could have imagined, but she also had one hell of a pain threshold.
He debated for a moment. The soft, tender approach with the sheepskin? But something told him that she would be almost disappointed. He did not want to encourage bad behavior like pouting, did he? Well, maybe, since punishment would be such fun. But since he could still smell and taste her pussy around his mouth, that would have to wait.
He smiled as he changed the angle once more, landing another one directly over her open pussy lips. She jumped and moaned, “Five. Thank you, Sir.”
He laughed as he bent forward. His body fit perfectly between those indecently spread thighs. He allowed the rough wool of his shirt to scratch against those hard nipples and savored her slight tremble as he wrapped his hand through her hair and pulled her head back. She opened those eyes and looked up at him.
“No, Kirsty. Wrong. You forgot number four, and since you got that wrong, do you remember what happens?”
The look of utter shock and horror in that expressive face thrilled him as few things ever had. He watched then as the truth dawned on her. “Yes, we start over again.”
He saw her open her mouth. He prepared for her to argue with him, to plead, to beg for mercy. Not that there was much of that left inside of him…and he saved all of it for his daughter. He was not prepared for her gentle sigh as she dropped his gaze and whispered, “Yes, Sir,” again.
It enraged him. The next one landed once more over her open hole. The hole he wanted to bury himself in. The one he swore he never would. He would not give her that power. Her eyes closed, and her whole body arched with the force of the blow. Her face reddened to the point that he almost reached for the knife.
Then she collapsed back against the quilt. When she opened her eyes, there were tears in them, but she only whispered, “One. Thank you, Sir.”
He rose over her, used his size to accentuate her vulnerability as he brought the tawse down rapidly on her mound again. He could see the shaved skin flame red this time. But he also saw how it glistened in the dim light. “Two. Thank you, Sir,” her voice was a bit stronger.
He used his fingers to probe the opening of that hole, which beckoned to him. If she had been wet before, her cunt was practically flooding now. He could not wait to taste it much longer.
He smiled at her, “Not only are you a good little whore, but damn woman, you have the makings of a real pain slut too,” to accentuate his point, he shoved his fingers as deep inside of her as he could.
He knew that she was tender from the leather, but he found her G-spot once more. He worked it hard as he brought the tawse down on the mound again and again. Her body was arching in a powerful orgasm as he combined her pain and pleasure. “Three. Oh, four. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” she cried as the muscles inside of her threatened to draw his whole hand in, the contractions of her orgasm were so powerful.
He had lost patience with that part of the game. All he wanted was to taste that sweet pussy one more time. To drink her in – over and over again. He flipped the leather pad and brought the softer sheep’s wool down on the red, tender flesh. Though her eyes were tightly closed, she arched her body once more. With a smile, she whispered, “Five. Thank you, Sir.”
He tossed the damned thing away and did what he had been waiting to do – bury his face between those thighs that were spread so fucking far apart. His tongue found her clit. Her labia practically scorched him; it was so hot from the beating.
Yes, their wife was definitely a pain slut in the making. He fought back the need to be the one to push those limits higher and higher. He reminded himself that after this night, she was not likely to want seconds of the bad boy for a long time. He tried to convince himself that it did not matter. But as she crested another peak and her whole body reddened with the power of her release on his tongue and fingers, he recognized that he was lying to himself.
He did not allow her to come down from that orgasm as he pushed her higher. He captured her clit. He held it firmly between his front teeth as his tongue flicked back and forth over the slick surface. His fingers inside of her pounded away. He knew she would be sore tomorrow, but damn her, not in the way he wanted most. And he took that frustration out upon her as she screamed.
He smiled around her swollen love button. “Go ahead and scream, slut. This room is practically soundproof,” he chuckled and felt her tremble as the vibration traveled straight to her clit. “Thank Odin. Otherwise, I am sure we would be even more fucked in the head.”
But it was not conversation he wanted with the taste of her cunt filling his nose, mouth, his very fucking soul – if he even had one anymore. She was thrashing against the ropes. He could see her occasionally choking herself as she strained against them, but every time just as he was sure, he would need to cut her free…her body relaxed, and she took in great gasps of air.
He could still feel her cunt squeezing his fingers, but the contractions were less intense than they had been. He knew what he wanted then as he released her swollen clitoris from between his teeth. He licked it, flicked it back and forth, and felt her thighs begin to tremble beneath his hands. Then he continued lower, slowly licking a trail from it down past her open hole to her other tight hole.
Svein had warned him off this one. But damn, he was never one to follow anyone’s rules but his own, as he toyed with it for a moment. His tongue rimmed the edges, and he feasted upon the way those expressive eyes widened with shock. He gave it a final lick as he slowly pressed a finger inside of it. She jumped at the invasion though he knew it was more from the shock of it than pain.
He placed his other hand on top of her mound to hold her still. He was pleased to note how warm the flesh there still was from her pussy spanking. He worked his finger slowly in and out of her back door, stretching it just a bit more each time as his tongue began the return journey.
But this time, it lingered. Homed in upon that open hole, which his throbbing cock coveted so fucking much. He knew that she would not deny him this. Hell, she probably would welcome, desperately wanted, or even needed his thick cock to fill her greedy cunt. But he would not give this woman that power over him. Over his cock anyway.
His tongue was a whole other matter as he first licked around the edges, rimmed her sweet pussy as he had her asshole. He savored her juices like a fine wine. Hell, he had never been a wine connoisseur, but a pussy one was another matter – and this was top quality. The best. But not even that was enough.
He used his hand that rested on her mound to spread her lips even further apart as he buried his face even deeper within her folds. His tongue did what he would not allow his cock as it sank deep inside of her tight folds. He used his tongue and his finger to work both holes in tandem as she went flying once more.
“Fuck,” she screamed. A deep chuckle erupted from his throat and was absorbed into her cunt. He got the feeling that their sweet innocent wife did not use that word often.
“Tongue fucking to be exact, sweetheart,” he replied as he licked from her hole back up to that button, which still stood at full attention. He captured it and bit down harder than he had before. She startled, and the rope tightened around her pretty neck.
“But you still have not given me what I want, Kirsty.”
The puzzled look on her face thrilled him, as he added a touch more pressure before releasing her clitoris from between his teeth. He stilled his finger in her ass as he adjusted his position on the bed. Laying on his stomach, he got comfortable and went in for the long hall.
He leaned his face against her mound and smiled, “Don’t you remember, dear wife?”
She shook her head and whispered, “No, Sir.”
He licked her clit once more, not for any other reason than to bite back those words, ‘good girl.’ Once he had himself again under control, he met her gaze, “You still have not drowned me in your sweet pussy juice.”
Those eyes almost popped out of her head as he grinned and added the single word, “Squirting.”
He saw her chest heave, her nipple tightened, and the dark pink flesh puckered. He did not give her time to think then. He replaced the hand which had held her firmly down with his face, burying his tongue within her folds, and once more working that sensitive button with it. His other one returned to her cunt.
He pushed three fingers inside of her this time. It was more than he had dared before. He went at her like a man possessed, an animal. His tongue on her clitoris, three fingers stuffed as far as he could get them inside her tight pussy and another now fully buried in her ass.
And it was just what it took. This time as he probed as hard as he could against that bundle of nerves just inside of her cunt, he pressed from the other side as well. He squeezed her g-spot between his fingers. Her legs dropped. He knew that she was trying to find some way to plant her feet upon the bed and arched against him. But he had tied her back too tightly.
Her scream then was louder than he had ever heard. For a moment, he feared that it might wake his brothers…or his daughter. But he was beyond the point of caring as the first of her sweet juices drenched his face. He lapped at them like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
Then he went back for more. It was not enough. He was not sure it ever would be with this woman. And as much as that bothered him, he was too busy lapping up her pussy nectar to give a shit right then.
He knew he should not. That she was too inexperienced still, but he was beyond caring as he slipped his fingers out of both holes. She whimpered. Fuck, that sound drove him mad. He lifted his head and used the hand that had been inside her cunt to slap her mound once more. Barehanded and hard.
“Did I say I was done with you, bitch? This pussy is mine. You offered it to me for the night. Remember, “I chose Mikael.’ Well, Mikael is nowhere near being done using it yet, slut,” he enjoyed the way that her tits bounced against the rope as she tried to breath.
“Yes, Sir.”
He smiled as he shoved two fingers in that tight ass then. And it was tight. Virgin tight. But he knew that too would not last. He lowered his head and began to suck on her clit like it was a third nipple. But even that was not enough as he rammed four fingers inside her tight pussy, finding that ridge of nerve endings and tormenting her body, just as much as she was fucking with his mind.
He had warned her. He would push her beyond every limit she had…and that was just what he did.
Kirsty was mindless, truly mindless by the time she felt his knife against her throat. She knew she should be scared, but she was too far gone by then. His face was blurry; still, she thought she managed to smile at him. She tried, anyway.
He flicked his wrist. She felt the pull around her neck as the rope tightened. She was beyond counting how many times that had happened. Beyond counting how many times this man had made her come. His face glistened with what she knew was her bodily fluids. This close, she could even smell it upon him. Her pussy. Her cunt.
He had threatened to force orgasms upon her. And he had – more than she could have counted. She was so lost in mindless wanderings of her mind that she chuckled, “One million. Thank you, Sir.”
His eyes danced then. It was the first time this man had looked halfway human – except when he was with his little girl. And for just a moment, she felt hope build inside of her. She believed that she could do it. Could be what this man needed as easily as she could Bjⱷrn…or even Svein. But the look was fleeting; that mask was back in place. Her heart sank with it.
The knife that thrilled her more than it frightened her, although the combination of the two was a powerful force, slipped once more between the layers of rope. With one more quick jerk, she felt the noose around her neck tighten painfully. Tighter, even than Bjⱷrn’s hand had been. Then the pressure was gone, completely, as her legs fell without the tension to hold them up.
She was not capable of controlling her own body at the moment. He had shown her that, over and over – and over. It was not just the orgasms, which seemed to all roll into one continuous one. She had lost count of the number of times that she had…
He laughed again, “What? I warned you, did I not?” He said as he turned to the right. Instead of cutting this rope, he untied it. His big hands enveloped hers. He rubbed them as they began to tingle. “Move your fingers for me.” She nodded her head and began to wiggle them as he turned his attention to the other arm.
Then he worked to unravel the maze of rope that had held her legs back. She had no idea how long it took, but it did not seem very long as she just floated. But he brought her back to reality quick enough with the solid thud of his barehand connecting with her outer thigh. All she could think was, “Thank you, Sir.”
“That’s better, slut,” he said as he tossed the rope to the side and repositioned them both so that she was half draped across his upper body.
They stayed like that for a bit, not speaking at all. She drifted in and out of reality. She wondered if there was such a thing. At the moment, she was not so sure. Especially when she would have sworn that he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Good girl.”
When Mikael was satisfied she was asleep, he rolled her onto her side and snuck from the room. He headed first to the bathroom, but his half-hard cock made that one damned tricky.
Then he slipped quietly into Monica’s room. He knelt next to her little bed and felt that all too familiar tightening in his chest. The same one that he had gotten since the moment he saw that first grainy grey photo of the blob that would become his child. The same one that choked him and brought tears to his eyes from the moment the nurse handed her to him.
When she slept, she was just like any other child. He could almost picture her laughing and talking with other children on the playground. Imagine her going on a first date. Graduating college. Smiling up at him as he walked her down the aisle. He bit back the pain and tears. He was not sure if any of that was in his child’s future.
He thought about the woman he had left in that big bed. The bed that had greeted generations of brides. The bed in which generations had been conceived and born. Did she hold the key? Was it possible that she might be able to unlock his daughter’s world? Help him to bridge the chasm that separated them?
He knew he had gotten carried away. Had gone too far. Again. But every time he was around her, she seemed to push his buttons. Unleash the pain and anger, the beast which dwelled inside of him. But he knew he had to get that under control and quickly.
Too much was riding on this. Not just his brothers’ futures. Or even his parents’. He knew his father’s dreams, but as long as Monica and he needed them, he knew they would remain just that…dreams. But most importantly, this little girl’s future was at stake. He had already lost one mother for her. He could not afford to be the reason that another abandoned her.
He remembered them in the car that afternoon. The way that their heads are bent together over than tablet. The way that his daughter rocked so happily in her booster seat as the woman smiled and laughed with her. That was what was important; he reminded himself. A mother for Monica. One that might have the very expertise necessary to save his daughter.
He brushed the soft brown curls back from her forehead. Even in her sleep, she frowned and turned away from him in the gentle glow of her night light. His heart broke. When would he ever learn? He could never be enough. Not for the women he loved. He had not been able to soften the pain when his mother needed him most. He had certainly not been able to reach Greta. Now even his daughter turned away from him. Was it any wonder that she would too?
‘I chose Mikael,’ he could almost hear the words. Almost believe for a single heartbeat that she had meant them. But he knew better. It was just a temporary infatuation with the bad boy. It would pass, all too quickly. And he would once more be left locked alone, on the outside looking in.
“I promise you, baby girl, Papa will do whatever it takes. I won’t let you down again,” he swore as he resisted the urge to touch her just once more. Instead, he rose and walked across the room, stood in the doorway for a long moment, just watching her sleep. And wondering about all those what-ifs in this life.
His eyes were cloudy by the time he turned and ran into the wall that was his ‘baby’ brother. “Everything alright?” Bjⱷrn asked stiffly.
Mikael clenched his fists by his side. He was not in the best of moods after the way he lost control with her. He certainly did not need Bjⱷrn reminding him of that. “Nothing I can’t handle. You make it a habit to hang out in hallways these days?”
Bjⱷrn smiled and shrugged, “Just needed to pee, man.”
“Yeah, well, I was heading downstairs to get some water, so if you don’t mind?” he replied as he tried to shove past him.
“Don’t forget to bring some back for…”
Mikael spun around. He shoved Bjⱷrn against the wall, pinned him with his forearm across the chest, “I do not need you to tell me my responsibilities, Baby brother.”
Bjⱷrn’s nose flared as he met Mikael’s gaze, “Are you sure about that?”
Mikael was sure that Bjⱷrn’s face would not have been quite so pretty tomorrow had not the other door opened. Svein stood sleepy in the doorway, “Enough. Both of you. Before you wake the child or the woman.”
He turned first to Bjⱷrn, “You need sleep, so go fucking get it. You think she’s going to be pleased if you look like shit tomorrow too?”
Bjⱷrn snorted as Mikael released the arm lock from across his body. He stared at both of them for a long moment before he disappeared back into his room.
Svein shook his head at his disappearing back, “Seems baby brother is not so whippy on the whole sharing thing when it is not his turn.”
Mikael laughed sardonically, “I still have not figured him out. Why the hell would he even want to when he could have any fucking woman he wanted?”
Svein’s face darkened for a moment, “Too many of Mama’s fancy fairy tales. Remember by the time that he was old enough to remember much of anything she had come to terms with things. Everything in his world always was the roses and never the thrones.”
Mikael’s throat tightened at his childhood memories, “Stig should not have allowed Mama her way with that one. He would have been better off if he had come to sea sooner, or maybe not at all.”
Svein sighed as he looked at that closed door, “He did what he thought was best at the time. Who are we to judge him for that?”
Mikael nodded, “Well, good night, big brother. Like I said, I was going downstairs for some water.”
Svein laughed, “Remind me, and we will pick up one of those mini-fridge things the next time we are in the city.”
“What? And ruin the whole doom and gloom atmosphere in there? Mama’s damned quilt is bad enough without some fucking mini-bar contraption,” he joked.
Svein laughed, “I don’t know, maybe get Olav to hide it under a spanking bench?”
Mikael chuckled, “Don’t give the old man any ideas. He spends enough damned time in that workshop as it is.”
“It is good to see you laugh, little brother.”
“Not like you do it very much either, big brother,” he replied.
Svein shrugged, “I don’t know; maybe we will both have something to laugh about,” he said as he stared at the closed bedroom door once more. “Well, good night.”
Mikael nodded and headed downstairs. It was anything but…a good night. Well, other than those words echoing so clearly in his mind, ‘I chose Mikael.’ If only – but his was a lifetime of ‘if only.’
Tara Cox - Literary Erotica 