Chapter 7 – Why Me?

Mikael stared at the woman. Why the hell did she have to look so fucking beautiful without any make-up, her hair in a simple braid, and wearing nothing but Bjⱷrn’s shirt?

This woman was just about the polar opposite of Greta. Although both women were tall, his ex-wife had been stick thin. Anorexic likely. Even during her pregnancy, the woman had worried over every single bite of food she ate. This one had curves, lush ones. He could tell that even hidden beneath his baby brother’s shirt.

“Take off the shirt.” If she wore anything this night, it would be his.

The girl clutched the shirt about her neck tightly and stared at him, “What is it with you guys and clothes? Are you naturists or something?”

He watched as she shuffled about the room. He would have asked ‘why him,’ but he knew. The woman had sensed that he was the weak link, that he wanted this the least of them all. And she had thought she could use that to manipulate the situation. Manipulate him. But he had had enough of women manipulating him to last a lifetime.

As much as it pained him to admit, Mama was right. He might not want this, but he needed it. More even than his baby brother. His child’s very future depended upon binding this woman to them, to him, and ultimately to Monica. He was not going to fail his daughter – not again. He might have been unable to stop her mother from abandoning her, but he would not allow his ‘issues’ to destroy this second chance for her.

She inched towards the closed door. He chuckled, “Where do you think you can go, Kirsty? We are on a ship in the middle of the ocean. It is dark and cold out there.”

He stood to his full height of six foot three and used it to tower over her. She would not be used to such displays of dominance from men. He would use that to his advantage.

“And did you forget that my brothers are just down the hall? Do you think they are just going to let you walk right past them?”

He turned and fumbled through the trunk that sat against the wall behind the door to the bathroom. It was their toy box. Big boy toys that they used when any of them entertained guests.

He knew that she preferred rope, and from the looks of marks on her wrists, Svein had given her a taste of that. For once, though, he was not going to get into a contest of one-upmanship with his brother. He reached for a different set of toys, and the clink of cold metal filled the room.

When he turned back to her, she had inched closer to the door. But prudence perhaps had kept her from testing his theories. He smiled as he lifted his prizes in his hands. “Do you know what these are?”

Mikael had to admit he enjoyed the surge of power that rushed straight to his cock at the look of shock in those expressive eyes.

“I will not ask if you have tried them. We both know you have not.” He shrugged his broad shoulders as he stepped closer to her, “And I do not give a damn if you want to or not.”

He stood within inches of her and bent his head so that he could whisper in her ear, “You thought you could top from the bottom with me, didn’t you?”

She shook her head so violently that the braid hit the side of his face. But there was no denying what they both knew was true.

“I just thought…” she stammered as she held up her hands. She started to back away like he knew she would.

He had positioned them so that only brought her closer to the bed, where he wanted her. Though perhaps not as she thought. Not as his brothers did. But wanted her nonetheless. When the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, when he knew that he had her cornered, precisely as he wanted her.

His hand captured her wrist as it came up to push at his chest. He smiled with satisfaction at the clank of metal against metal as the handcuff tightened around her wrist. They were surprisingly small for a girl of her size, but he adjusted them until they fit just right. Not too tight, saving him the effort of continually checking for circulation. But not loose enough that she could wiggle away.

She was going nowhere this night. She might have thought she had chosen the weakest link, but she would soon discover that even then, their resolve was more potent than she was.

He had to wrestle her other hand from where she had tried to hide it behind her back as the first cuff closed around the other wrist. His body brushed against hers, and his cock hardened inside of his jeans. He cursed under his breath. At her, but more so at the betrayal of his own body. He did not want to want her. He never wanted to want another woman at all – ever.

But this one was not one of the hookers that he paid in the Red Light district of whatever port they called upon. Of course, only when he could no longer deny his physical appetites or satisfy them himself. This one he could not simply walk away from without a backward glance by tossing a few extra bills upon the bed.

This one was his wife. Their wife, he corrected himself. His wife had left him. Had hated him so much that she did not even want to take their daughter with her because Monica reminded her of him.

He froze. For a moment, he feared that the woman had been right. That he was so weak that he could not go through with this. Could not do what he knew he must to bind her closer to them. Closer to him as much as that frightened and disgusted him.

It was his little girl’s face in his mind as he closed his eyes that ultimately gave him that courage. Mama was right; she needed a mother. But if what he feared was true, she needed more than that. She needed this woman’s skills.

When they had started chatting with this woman, they had researched many facets of her life. Google had told them much about the people she called parents. But what it had not told them, niggled at the back of his mind. There was not a single mention anywhere of the brilliant couple’s only child. Their careers most definitely. Their charity work. Their presence in high society. But not her. Not Kirsty. This he did not understand.

But that was not all they had investigated. They had learned more about her work too. He, in particular, had spent hours studying what it was that she did with these children. It was this that had given him hope. Perhaps if she loved her work so very much and her messages indicated that she did, then maybe she could, would come to love Monica.

The thing was that the more Mikael read and learned of autism…the more he saw his little girl. At times, he had had to force himself to keep reading through eyes that clouded with unshed tears.

So, much finally made sense. His daughter’s withdrawal, the way that she could never look any of them in the eyes, well rarely. Her sometimes almost violent outbursts that seemed to come out of nowhere and have no cause. Even the fact that at almost five, she spoke less than a handful of words and then only rarely. It suddenly made sense to him.

And that was why he needed this woman. This woman, above all others, might hold the key for reaching his child. And he would do whatever it took to keep her, to bind her to them. To him. His daughter was counting on him not to let her down, not this time.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers as he lowered her to the bed. He re-arranged her long legs that he was delighted to see covered with the light brown freckles that ran across her nose. Was her whole body? He would discover for himself soon enough.

He clicked the other handcuff into place around the other wrists and then tugged her hands above her head, securing them to the hook above his brother’s bed. He was not done yet.

He stood up and walked back to that trunk. It was not hard to find what he was looking for; it was one of the larger items in their treasure chest. He felt the weight of it in his hand as he lifted it high into the air. He watched her eyes as the faint light from the overhead bulb caught on the metal bar.

“I don’t need to ask if you know what this is. I can see in those beautiful eyes that you know exactly what a spreader bar is used for,” he chuckled as he took the single step between the open box and the foot of the bed.

“I don’t think this made your fetish list on the site, either,” he bent and unbuckled one of the straps, slipping it around her ankle even though she fought, tried to keep him from fastening it firmly into place.

“But it makes mine,” he replied as he turned his attention to the other ankle. Without the momentum of both legs, this one was easier still to capture. He had the restraints secured around both ankles in less than two minutes despite her protests and fighting.

He looked up at her. Stared her down for several long moments without saying or doing anything. It was a battle of wills. A game of chicken. Who would look away first? And he was determined to win this primitive game of domination that even beasts of the field knew and practiced.

Though she did not see it, he nodded his head in satisfaction when she looked away, staring at the wall. “Why me?” she whispered.

Her simple words froze Mikael and melted something inside of him. He wished he could give her an answer, but the one which he had to offer would only make matters worse. It was self-serving and probably nothing more than a father’s desperate attempt to save his only child. Instead, he ignored her plea though it ate at his soul.

He pushed all that aside and focused upon doing what must be done at this moment. He adjusted the bar, loosening it until it was almost its full length. The girl did have the most amazing long legs. As long as Greta’s, and they drew attention when she strutted the runways. But these were not stick thin. This woman’s were soft, smooth, and welcoming. And the spreader bar only emphasized that.

Her pale skin with its light smattering of freckles almost blended with the white duvet. The only color was the deep blue of his brother’s shirt and the striking red of hair. Neither one of which was to his liking at the moment.

He knelt at the foot of the bed and bent over her. There was barely a foot between their bodies as he leaned all of his weight upon one hand near her head. Mikael used his free hand to rip open his little brother’s damned shirt.

Was it some perverse reminder from Bjⱷrn that this woman had been his choice? Not that it mattered, because, in the end, she was their choice. Their woman. Their wife.

He smiled as he noticed the freckles that covered her neck and shoulders; they continued down her chest. They called to him like stars in the night sky. He wondered if he stared at them long enough, could he find patterns among them as the ancients had in the heavens. Would those patterns and stars lead him home as his forefathers had once followed the stars to navigate the seas?

He doubted it. There was no home for him, no peace to be found. His hope had walked out the door, out of his life, out of his little girl’s life three years ago. It was too late for him. But not for his daughter. Not for his brothers.

So, he would go through the motions. Do what he knew needed to be done to yoke this woman to him. To them all. He would not be the weakest link. He would not fail them. Never again.

“Bjⱷrn will have to find another favorite shirt,” he said as he drew the knife from his back pocket.

He had meant only to cut the shirt from her. This game, knife play, was much too advanced for a novice. But the look of fear and excitement in those Odin damned eyes did something to his gut, his mind, and damn it, that Judas – his cock.

“Be very still, Kirsty,” he whispered as he stared into the depths of those green fields. “Do you understand me?”

The girl only nodded her head against the white pillow. It was a reminder of the other thing that he did not like. He rose and shifted the knife to his other hand. He noticed the look of relief as he bent back over her. And disappointment?

He smiled as he used his long fingers to tug and pull her hair free of the braid. Maybe he should have been more gentle, but he was in too much of a hurry to see those thick curls spread like a hallo of orange tulips around her. It took him just a moment to complete the task and return to his earlier one as he shifted the knife back to his other hand.

He stared directly into those eyes as he brought the point of the blade to her cheek. He told himself again that this game, one of his favorites, was much too much advanced for them. It required a degree of trust that was built up over time.

That was just it; he did not have time. They did not have time. Three days at best before they reached port. Three days before she had the chance to run. Not that any of them was going to let her do that. Not physically, anyway.

But Mikael knew how easy it would be for her to withdraw from them all. He knew exactly what it felt like to live with and sleep next to a stranger. On the small island that they called home, with acres and acres of fields and trees, a house that had been added to time and time again as their family grew over the centuries, it was easy to find places to hide. He should know, he was an expert at it.

So, he did what he must; he forced her deeper into a level of trust than perhaps he ought. Deeper than either was ready to go as he ran the tip of the blade along the bottom of her prominent cheekbone from her ear to the corner of her mouth. The line that the sharp edge left in its wake was red and raised, but the skin remained unbroken. That line would disappear quickly, but this lesson would stay deep in her submissive brain.

He hated the way that his cock hardened and throbbed painfully inside the coarse denim of his jeans, but he loved the way he could almost hear the rapid beating of her heart in the tiny room. He loved the look of surrender in those eyes even more as he bent towards her full lips. Her mouth was open, and his blade remained at the corner of it.

His eyes never left hers as he captured that pouty bottom lip between his teeth and bit into the succulent flesh. She held perfectly still no matter how deep his teeth sank into the tender skin until he tasted the coppery sweetness of her blood on his tongue.

“Good girl,” he whispered as he released the swollen flesh and straightened a bit.

He used the knife to cut away the rest of his brother’s sign of possession on her body. Until she lay completely naked on the bed beneath him. The spreader bar held her legs open almost obscenely. He sat back on his heels and began to toy with her. He stared into those eyes as he used the knife to draw delicate patterns of raised welts down her neck.

He paused for a long moment alongside the point where they both knew that her jugular vein and carotid artery pumped blood to and from that brilliant brain. He held her very life at the tip of his knife, and they both knew it.

It was a head rush that he had rarely indulged in with any partner. And never with the same intimacy that he shared with this woman…for they both knew that it was not just symbolic. They indeed did hold her life in their hands – he and his brothers.

He smiled secretively. Of course, what she did not realize was just how much she held theirs in her hands and heart too. And it was better that she did not. He had learned the hard way not to give that type of power to any woman…even this one.

He continued the trail down her neck and across her chest as it heaved up and down. He listened as she sucked air into her lungs. Fear and excitement melted together into a potent brew that demanded more introspection than he had time to give it at the moment. Perhaps that was for the best. Mikael was not sure he truly wanted to know what lay beneath those feelings.

When he came to her tits, he added his marks to Svein’s. He traced the outline of his brother’s teeth on her pale flesh. The bruises were a deep purple now, so he added the deep lines of his knife to accent each one. He knew that the pressure of the blade against the tender flesh would be painful, and her quick intake of breath a couple of times when he applied a deeper pressure only confirmed that.

Then he came to her nipples. They were hard, standing like pinkish-brown summits against the white hillocks of her breasts. They reminded him of snowcapped mountains in reverse. They captivated him. Breasts always did. This uniquely womanly feature with its ability to nurture life and provide comfort.

Greta had refused to nurse Monica calling breastfeeding disgusting; she would not risk her perky tits merely to feed a child. But now was not the time to ruminate upon past mistakes. Now was about connecting with the future.

He trailed the sharp tip of the knife in ever-tightening circles around her areola until the point buried into the tender flesh of her nipple. He held her gaze as he sank the tip as deep as he dared.

A soft whimper escaped her throat, but he could not tell if it was pain or pleasure. He smiled triumphantly and bent once more to taste her blood on that swollen lip. His tongue invaded the recesses of her mouth and licked at the wound.

He returned to repeat the game upon her other nipple. These games were more fun than he remembered, but he was tired of toying with his prey. The point of the hunt was the kill, of course. And he zoomed in for it as he scooted back to the foot of the bed and began to run his knife along the soles of her feet.

He chuckled as he watched her writhe against her bonds. Her teeth bit into her swollen lower lip until she gasped out at the pain and that unique torment, unlike all others. “Ticklish, are we? I shall remember this,” he said as he dragged the point of his knife slowly up the inside of her calf towards her thighs.

Without the impediment of his brother’s offensive shirt, she was fully open to him, and he could see her cunt glistening in the dim light. He knew that these games were exciting her as much or even more than they frightened her. And he was just getting started. Soon…very soon, he would see just how sweet she tasted. He would feast on her until he was satisfied.

It was no accident when his blade sank a little deeper into the sensitive and tender flesh of her inner thigh just an inch from her mound. He held her gaze as he allowed the blade to slice through her skin, to mark her.

It was nothing more than a nick.  But the satisfaction it gave him was far more profound. He smiled like one of his ancient forefathers as he corned a polar bear and went in for the kill as he watched the trail of red blood against creamy white flesh.

Then he did what he had been waiting to do. He bent his head and tasted her. Tasted her blood once more as he lapped the trail away. He placed his mouth directly over the open wound and sucked until the warm coppery taste of her life force filled his mouth and ignited something utterly primal inside of him.

If her shudder was any indication, his little game had not been distasteful. Of course, there was one way to tell the difference between fear and excitement. It was a test he was all too willing to make.

Mikael did not need to get far for his answer. The succulent, musky aroma of this woman’s arousal assailed his nose and mind. She smelled sweet as the first strawberry of spring from his mother’s greenhouse and as salty as the sea itself. The smell called to his other senses to explore her depths further.

His fingers were the next to sample her feminine richness. The dew that coated them as he spread her lips apart beckoned. He could see that tiny nub glistening in the warm light. He could almost watch it pulse and throb in time with each beat of her heart at filled the silence.

Or was that his heart? Other parts of his anatomy were most definitely pulsing and throbbing at this sensual assault on his shattered mind. There was only one thing left. One sense that had not yet been satisfied. The most important one in this case.

Mikael allowed himself to glory in his actual focus. That morsel of sensitive flesh that was peaking between the glistening from folds of her spread pussy lips. He was glad that she was freshly shaven.

Although maybe in the future, they would extend these games a bit. He hardened and thickened at the thought of her immobilized like this as he took his straight razor to this most delicate of flowers. Oh yes, he looked forward to shaving her cunt one day soon – very soon.

But for now, this game was about tasting her sweetness and tormenting her. Until she broke for him. Just for him as he sank his teeth around the throbbing flesh of her clitoris.