Chapter 13 – Trust Me

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Svein fought hard to keep from laughing at the way those eyes revealed every fucking thought this woman had. His woman. Their woman, he reminded himself.

He enjoyed the play of all her emotions. The shock reminded him of just how inexperienced a submissive and lover they had chosen. The curiosity gave him hope that could be overcome in time.

Was it not better to train her to his tastes, their tastes, from the beginning? Rather than try to untrain someone else’s? And if she was inexperienced so much the better. She was not unresponsive. If they gave her body pleasure that her other lovers had not, then it would bind her to them more surely, more quickly, more easily than he had hoped.

But in this, he could see that she needed a bit of help. He leaned forward just a bit. It brought his body closer to hers as she knelt on all fours in front of him. His cock was only a couple of inches from her face as he brushed those long strands of hair back from her face. Once more, he wrapped its silkiness around his fist. When he touched it, the image emerged once more of the spider’s web, and he was merely the fly. As long as she never realized that, everything was okay.

“Another lesson, my sweet wife. Good girls always clean up their messes.” He felt the gentle sway of her head as she began to shake her head. But she stopped herself. That touch of fear was there again, and it sent adrenaline rushing through his veins.

He put his baby brother’s theory to the test with his next words. “And that is your mess, your cunt that was so fucking tight it milked the very life out of my cock, is it not?”

This time she nodded slowly. As quickly she remembered their earlier conversation, she might be a virgin in more ways than one, but her intelligence, her curiosity, and that oh so, submissive nature would make training her both easy and pleasurable. Oh, so fucking pleasurable as she whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

“And you do want to be a good girl, do you not, Kirsten?” He always used the adulteration of her name. It would personalize what they had. She might be Kirsty to everyone else, but she would be his Kirsten alone, and one day he hoped she would realize that.

She nodded; it was a nasty habit that he would enjoy breaking. Then she breathlessly whispered, “Yes, Sir,” and he smiled. But punishments could wait for another time.

“That is my good girl. You like ice cream, no?” he asked. “You enjoy licking them as they melt on a hot summer’s day, yes?”

He sucked in his breath as he watched his words dawn in that brilliant mind. “Yes, just like that. My cock is your ice cream cone tonight, and you must lick off your cunt juice completely before it drips down.”

He knew he was pushing her limits, but that was the point. He wanted, needed to see what they were. How far would she go?

As she crawled forward, his image of her changed from that spider with its web to the sexiest damned Tabby cat he could imagine. Not that furries or animal play had ever been his thing, but he had seen them in the clubs often enough. Women and men dressed as animals, taking on their mannerisms even. It did nothing for him.

Until he imagined her crawling across the floor like a cat, climbing onto his lap to be stroked and petted. That was a different story. She was a different story. That scared him. He wanted to keep this simple. Let Bjⱷrn tangle himself in her sexy webs. This was supposed to be about one thing: breeding. His son. The next generation for Njörður’s Captive. Pure and simple. But when he looked at her, it never was.

Especially the way that she was looking at him now. Those big eyes were glued right to his cock as she reached out her hand slowly.

“No,” he growled. “Not this time. Your mouth only, Kirsten. Use that pretty little mouth as I told you.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered as she licked her bottom lip. He could almost imagine that would be how she looked at that ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. Like she wanted to devour it, but at the same time tried to savor it, too.

He smiled as she leaned her head in. Her tongue felt scalding hot as it made the first contact with his shaft. So, she began licking her cones from the bottom and worked towards the top. He was pleased. Even in this, they matched. It would be one thing he would not need to correct her on.

He tugged at those strands wrapped tightly around his fist, lifting her head just slightly. He wanted to watch her. He wanted to see those eyes, know her thoughts as they explored this uncharted territory together. “Look at me,” he commanded.

She nodded as much as she could with his hand wrapped so tightly in her hair. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

He felt the soft warmth of her breath caress the head of his cock. He automatically tightened his grip on that red web. Her eyes never left his as she finally swirled that hot tongue around it. “Good girl,” he praised her efforts.

“But there is more than simply licking, is there not? You are my greedy girl, are you not? You sometimes cannot wait, no? You must gobble your ice cream. Gobble my cock, Kirsten. Swallow as much as you can,” he commanded and was pleased to notice that her nipples which still hung out of the confines of that corset hardened at his words.

Baby brother had her number when it came to dirty talk, and that pleased him too. Silent sex was never good sex.

She drew back for just a moment as she studied his cock as if trying to figure out how to do it. But he did not allow her to hesitate. His fist in her hair guided her head lower, almost forced it down onto his throbbing cock.

He was tempted to close his eyes and revel in the feel of that warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock. But that would probably diminish his enjoyment. Half of the fun was watching her. Watching her discover things she had never known, pleasures she had never tasted.

Honestly, he had had better blow jobs. Technically, she lacked finesse. But she more than made up for what she lacked in technique with the pure joy that she put into it. The other could be trained, and he would enjoy that too. But the way she looked at his cock as if she were worshipping it. As if all she wanted was to please him – that could never be trained or faked. Oh, his wife might need a few lessons, but she was the best kind – natural born cock sucker.

“Breath deeply through your nose, Kirsten,” he instructed as he began to lift his hips slowly, forcing another inch down her throat. She gagged as he knew she would. He softly caressed her cheek as he held her gaze, “Relax. Relax your whole body. Trust me.”


Did he know the power of those words? Did he understand what he was asking? What they were asking? The very idea of doing what she was doing right now, it would have once shocked her. Hell, her friends would probably think it was sick. But she had to admit; it was not what she expected.

It was not distasteful as she had imagined. Salty, earthy, natural. Like biting into an apple fresh and unwashed from the tree. Musky but sweet after that first taste. Something that she would want to taste again…and again. A new addiction, perhaps.

And those eyes. They hid so much and revealed all at the same time. He was not just commanding her, asking her to trust him. No, he needed it. He needed her. He might not know that yet, but she did.

This man, who from the stories that Bjⱷrn had told, had never been a little boy. He was too serious. He worried too much. But that was because he cared too much. He carried all of that alone.

How could she not? How could she deny him what he needed? How could she withhold what was hers alone to give? She nodded her head, and this time that would have to be good enough because there was no way in hell that she could say, “Yes, Sir,” with half of his cock buried down her throat and the other half trying to join it.

But she willed herself, cued her body to his voice, did as he needed, relaxing until she found herself melding into him, his will. She felt another inch of his hard cock slip down her throat unchecked this time.

He smiled just a bit and caressed her cheek again, “Good girl.”Kirsty felt her nipples harden, her cunt tighten at his words, those words from him.

How could words that had once seemed to bind her to a life she did not want, the ‘good girl’ who went to the right schools, had the right kind of friends, choose the right job, married the right man, singular of course. She had been that ‘good girl,’ and it bound her tighter than his ropes ever could.

But when he said it like that, when Bjⱷrn did, it was like they gave her wings. She could soar. They broke the bonds that had held her captive her whole life. They freed her to be who she wanted to be. And right now, she wanted to be just that: his good girl. His. And his alone.

She moved her head forward and once more found herself struggling against her body’s natural defenses as she gagged. She felt tears sting her eyes until her vision blurred. Still, she pressed forward, trying to get more of his cock, all of it down her throat.

His laugh was rough, as rough as the man himself, as rough as the callouses on his fingers that were so tenderly caressing her cheek. “Enough. You will not learn to deep throat my cock like a porn star in one night, Kirsten.”

He leaned back, and his cock slowly slipped from her mouth. Why did she feel so empty without it? Without him? She could not help herself as she leaned in, licked it slowly once more from base to tip, savoring the flavor of him, the feel of him.

He shook his head, that laughter that she knew was as rare and precious as rain upon the desert fell around her, and her heart danced in it. “But never fear. You will. You will deep throat my cock until your nose is buried against me. Until you wonder where your next breath will come from because it fills your throat so full there is no room for even air to pass.”

“And quit looking at me like you are disappointed. Know this; you have pleased me. You exceeded my expectations.”

Something told her that those words did not come easily from this man. That they were genuine. And that she would have to work very hard if she wished to hear them again.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered as she gave a final lick to the head of his cock. She frowned, it was still as hard as before. Perhaps more so.

His next words confused her, “Back on your knees as before. Fingers laced behind your back.”

Confused or not, she obeyed instantly. Though she kept her head down, she could hear him moving about the cabin. Water running in the bathroom. Something creaking as it opened. Was it the toy box?

She did not know how long she waited there on that cold, hard wood. But she knew her knees began to ache. She knew that she had to flex her fingers to keep blood flowing freely to them. And she knew that she had to will herself to remain as still as possible — her head down as she awaited him – his pleasure.

When he finally came into view, she saw three things. Those sexy feet. She would have to think about that one later. She noticed his cock; it was not quite as hard as before, but more than she could manage to get in her mouth. She licked her bottom lip as she thought, ‘I would sure like to try.’ And she saw the rope, coiled about his fist, just as her hair had been.

She studied its light tan lengths. Bjⱷrn was right. She tried to count the strands: three plies, maybe four. She liked to think it was four anyway.

When he spoke, there was no room in her mind for his brother’s words — another thing to consider later.

“As sweet as that mouth of yours was, that is not what I want from you.”


He bit back the words though they came quickly enough to his mind, his babies, his sons. No, while he had enjoyed her almost innocent explorations. Could have easily allowed himself to give in to the need. Allowed her to take him over the edge again. But not yet. Not now. Not until a baby was growing inside of her.

His baby. Their baby. He wanted to tell himself that it did not matter. His. Bjⱷrn’s. Even Mikael’s. But that would be a lie. His son. That was what he wanted most from her. Some voice at the back of his mind called him a liar, but he was not ready to listen. A son – that was what mattered. That was what this was about.

He rubbed the rope against the side of her cheek, just as he had caressed it with his fingers. He knew that she did not fear it. That it ignited fires within her. But he wanted more. He wanted it to become a part of her. A part of them. Something that would tie them together.

He felt her shiver. He knew that the night air was crisp this far out to sea. That the floor was cold and hard. But before they crawled into his bed beneath the warmth of the duvet, before he allowed himself to sink deep inside her warm wet depths, before he enjoyed the slow, easy fuck that he had been so looking forward to with this woman. Before he once more allowed himself the pleasure of release into her fertile body, and he knew it was.

He would never forget that email. When they had agreed to meet, she had been adamant about two things…nothing was going to happen. But if it did, she would bring condoms. He had assured her that there was no need; that he was clean. His cock had gotten hard when he opened her reply, ‘it’s about more than just that. I have not been on the pill since… Well, in months.’ No words could have made him want her more.

But first, he had something else in mind. He stepped behind her. He measured out the rope. Tied off the anchor as he wrapped it about her neck. Her quick intake of breath as he cinched it into place caused his cock to harden and throb. He began the intricate latticework that would lace up her arms, securing them firmly behind her back.

It did not take him long. As he had told her, he had been working rope and knots since practically before he could walk. While she might have been attracted to the beauty of the ancient Japanese art of Shibari, that had never been his thing. This was not art…this was domination. This was about controlling her. About marking her. This was about binding her to him on so many levels.

He tied off the rope at the base of her wrists in the amount of time that it would have taken most ropers to measure off the line and cinch off the anchor around that slim, beautiful neck.

He wrapped the rest of it around his fist. It was not as soft as her hair, but he had two hands. He was sure that the other one would end up tangled back in her spider’s web at some point in the next couple of hours as he took her so slowly that it would be torture to them both. After all, he was just another fly. He was caught, no matter how hard he fought those silken strands.

He tugged her to her feet. He took her deep sigh into his very soul as her body brushed slowly against his. He held the ends of the rope tightly so that she could not move away, could put no distance between them. His other hand brushed that hair back from her face, baring her shoulder. He let it trail slowly down her front, lingering over those lush tits, he nestled his cock fully between the warm cheeks of that round ass.

His hand came to rest exactly where he wanted most, over her womb. He prayed to whatever was fucking out there, that even now that womb was filled with new life. That he gave her. The first time, this night. But soon. Soon.

He bent his head and sank his teeth deep into the tender flesh of her shoulder. It was easier to bite her than bite back words that he was not even ready to think, let alone say. But this woman, this woman had him from that first hello. From the moment he reached out and drew her through that gate, he had known he could never let this one go.

Shibari might not make his fetish list, but she did. The truth was that the only shibari that had ever caught his fancy was the photograph he saw of the heavily pregnant woman wrapped in a body harness. Her nearly bursting womb framed by the brightly colored rope that outlined its fullness – while carefully avoiding constricting the blood flow to the new life within. That was what he wanted with her, what he needed.

Even if that damned voice in his mind told him a baby was as much about binding her to him, closer than any rope ever could. More than it was merely about a son to fish the seas long after it swallowed him for the last time. He bit harder to fight even the thought.


Kirsty yawned as she snuggled deeper into Svein’s arms. His shoulders were not quite as broad as Bjⱷrn’s. How did he manage to carry such much upon them? She shifted closer, trying to find just the right position.

His still hard cock was buried inside of her, and the bindings about her arms did not make that any easier as they stretched between them behind her back. Then again, in some warped sense that comforted her. Made her feel secure, wanted. And very much captured.

She chuckled softly. That was precisely what she was trying to do: find the right position. With Svein. With Bjⱷrn. Even with Mikael. But surprisingly, the person she was finding it most difficult to find her place with was herself.

His ropes about her arms were a reminder of that. They were what had gotten her into this position, to begin with, …her curiosity about Shibari.

And the man had skill. She could not imagine anyone doing this lattice that bound her arms together behind her back more securely. Yet, at the same, it was comfortable. She occasionally flexed her fingers, of course, to keep them from falling to sleep. But other than the position itself, the ropes did not abraid her skin.  

But it was Bjⱷrn’s words that played through her mind as she lay in Svein’s arms. She had done as he said when his brother brought out the ropes this time. She had studied them and the man as he worked. The way that her whole body had tingled and come alive when he ran the coil of rope over her skin was a lesson she would not forget quickly.

Were any of their lessons? She had immersed herself in those books for months. Read everything she could find on the subject of BDSM. She had spent way too many hours on that website and its forums. But none of it had prepared her for the past forty-eight hours? Fifty-two? A bit more? Nothing had prepared her for them.

That still scared her. How could someone’s life change so utterly? So quickly? Her mind reeled from it all. Sometimes she wanted to kick and scream as she had that first time this man had taken her in his arms, bound her with his rope. How could they expect so damned much of her so soon?

More frightening – how could she just so easily give it? Surrender like this? How could she want things that went against everything she had been taught? She refused to think again about how disappointed her mother would be. Of course, that was nothing new.

Bjⱷrn had been right about that too: she had not been happy in that old life. She had spent her whole life trying to live up to the standards of the great Nancy Dickens and failing miserably. She had not done any better in her relationships. Raj. But even her friendships were lacking. She had only one real friend. Even the job that she loved had seemed lacking lately, too mired in politics.

Would she be happy with this new one? Was she even considering it? Could any woman love three men? And what of the world in which they lived? How could she, how would they manage that? She giggled nervously as she imagined introducing them to her parents. She would make sure to do it at the hospital where they worked…just in case.

She tried very hard to push back the one thought that had plagued her for the last few minutes as his hand rested so low over her abdomen. Like every time he rocked gently behind her, his hard cock brushed against her cervix.

It was not something she was not ready to consider. She could not let her mind go there. But that did not change the fact that she had unprotected sex…with two different men over the space of a couple of days. Svein turned on his side just a bit, once more, his cock thrust a bit deeper, and she felt the tiny shiver of need flitter along her spine.

“Go to sleep, woman. Tomorrow is a big day,” he growled without even opening his eyes as his hand rested lightly over her lower abdomen. He tugged the rope in his hand to pull her closer.

Those fingers caressed her stomach so softly, so unlike the stern lover that he had been earlier. Had he considered it? The possibility? A thousand questions plagued her mind. But the rumble in his chest was all the warning she needed.

They fit. In this new position, she fit so tightly against his body. It felt right. Too right. And that was what fucking scared her the most, how right they fit together. She fit as easily into this man’s strong arms as she had his brother’s last night. And something told her that given time and a bit of understanding, she could even fit into Mikael’s.

Laying here in his arms, this was not fiction. This was not some sex-starved writer’s over-active imagination. This was real. As real as it got. She remembered something else too. Tomorrow Bjⱷrn and Svein had said they would reach port. Their home. She remembered her promise to Bjⱷrn also. Not to run. To give them a chance. As if she could run now.

But as comfortable as it felt wrapped in his arms, their arms, she could not get her head around it. How could one woman love three men? Three brothers? All so very different? All needing something different from her? And what if… What if she were pregnant? She shuddered.

But as satisfied and exhausted as her body was, it could not stay awake long enough to ponder such depths of the human mind and heart. All she knew was that she had found her spot in his arms, and sleep would not wait. Maybe tomorrow would answer a few of those questions. She hoped so anyway.

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