Owned by the Vikings (2 page)

Ogleif was kneeling by his side, doing
something with the coil of rope. Rough hemp slid over Edric’s bare thigh, and
he realized Ogleif was tying him up again. Tying his thighs to the legs of the
bench, so that his legs were spread wide and he could not close them.

It seemed to take a long time, and then
Ogleif moved on to his arms, tying them roughly but securely to the front legs
of the bench.

Now, the only thing Edric could move was
his head. He tried to look up, but all he could see were the long legs of the
Vikings as they crowded all around him. He felt intensely vulnerable, lying
here naked, his bare ass up in the air, with all these men standing over him.

At least there was nobody standing over
his head with an axe, preparing to chop him into bits. Edric tried to relax
against the bench, though his heart pounded in his throat.

“Prepare him,” someone ordered, from the
front of the ship. It was Thorvald; the bass rumble of his voice was
unmistakable.

Someone stroked Edric’s ass. He reacted,
struggling against the ropes, but Ogleif had tied him so securely that he
couldn’t move an inch. All he could do was tense his muscles.

Something greasy and warm spread over his
ass, trickling down into his cleft, and Edric recognized the sensation.

Whale fat
, he thought.
They’re
pouring melted whale fat over my ass.

He blushed with shame, imagining how he
must look: hogtied to a butcher’s bench, with grease all over his ass. A
perfect picture of a wanton thrall, lying ready and waiting to be fucked by all
comers.

Without warning, strong hands pulled his
cheeks apart, and he felt thick fingers pushing the fat deep into him.

Edric bit his lip, determined not to cry
out. After that first, brutal fucking, he had been untouched for three weeks,
and his entrance felt just as tender as it had before. Even the intrusion of
those fingers smarted fiercely, though the whale grease helped ease the way.

“You know the rules,” Ogleif’s loud voice
said over his head. “Every oarsman may use the thrall. When you’ve had your
turn, move to the rear.”

“Whose rear?” a joker called out, setting
off a deep-voiced chorus of laughter.

“Shut up,” Ogleif growled. “After they’ve
rowed a thousand strokes, second shift gets their turn. Now get on with it.”

Edric blanched, hearing Ogleif’s
matter-of-fact instructions. He had thought he wanted these men to touch him -
or, well, mostly he had wanted Thorvald to touch him - but
all
of them?
An entire crew of hard-bitten, muscular, well-hung Vikings? It was insane. They
would tear him open, split him apart and throw him overboard like a used rag.

Ogleif stood up, dusting fragments of
hemp off his hands, and Edric found himself surrounded by half a dozen Vikings.
They stared at him intently, focused on their prey.

Without any exchange of words, two men
took up their places at his head and his rear. Edric recognized them; they were
the ones who rowed the first oars, near the bow of the ship. Arik and Njal.

Edric took a deep breath. He was shaking.
He couldn’t believe what was going to happen.
Use the thrall
, Ogleif had
said. This wasn’t a trade like before, his life for their pleasure. Now they
were treating him like an animal, a collection of holes for any man to stuff
his cock inside.

But that’s what you are
, a silent voice
told him, the voice of his own darkest dreams and fears.
You’re a thrall
now. Nobody will ever speak your name again.

Thorvald had told him that, and Edric
could see now that it was true.

A finger teased his entrance, and Edric
would have jumped if he could move at all. The finger withdrew, and someone
said, “Still so tight!” in an approving tone of voice.

“Get on with it, Njal, time’s a-wasting,”
someone else called. “Use his hole now, talk about how sweet it is later.”

“Right you are,” Njal said, sounding
amused.

In the next heartbeat, he was pushing the
head of his cock into Edric’s greased-up entrance.

Edric moaned at the burn of it, the
stretch of it. He tried to clamp his thighs closed, to halt Njal’s entry, but
he was tied so tightly to the bench that he couldn’t do it.

He hissed as Njal pressed into him,
deeper and deeper. His long, slow entry burned like fire, stretching him before
he was ready.

Then someone else grabbed him by the
hair. It was Arik, a giant bear of a man with curling blond chest hair and a
cruel grin.

Groaning at the pain, Edric tried to
close his mouth and tighten his jaw. But strong fingers dug into his jawbone,
and he opened up helplessly.

Before he knew it, his lips stretched
around another giant Viking cock. Salt-bitter taste burned on his tongue, and
behind him, Njal sawed deeper into him, pushing against him viciously.

“Oh gods,” Edric said, despairing, but no
recognizable sounds came out of his mouth. He sucked and swallowed hurriedly,
trying not to choke on the fat cockhead between his lips.

The hand in his hair tightened, pulling
him forward to suck in more cock. His neck muscles protested, but he was tied
so tightly that he couldn’t move, couldn’t accommodate anything. All he could
do was lie there and take it.

Njal withdrew from him slowly,
agonizingly slowly - a sword being drawn from its sheath - and then slammed
back into him, making Edric cry out.

The circle of men standing over him were
oblivious to his pain. They cheered Njal on, saying things like “That’s right,
you fuck him open for us,” and placing bets on how long he would last.

All Edric could do was hang on,
shuddering and moaning around the cock in his mouth. He wasn’t even trying to
lick or suck, but he could tell that Arik didn’t care; he just wanted to force
his cock down Edric’s throat. He wanted a tight, clinging mouth to thrust into,
and a soft wet throat against the head of his cock.

Choking, nearly gagging, Edric tried to
relax his throat muscles and keep breathing. He had to live through this. He
had to prove to Thorvald that he could do it; he would not cry out, or beg for
mercy.

The hemp ropes tied around his legs
chafed him every time Njal thrust into him, rubbing against the tender skin of
his inner thighs. It would almost have been easier if he had not been tied,
Edric thought hazily; then he could have moved with the thrusts, lessening
their impact.

But clearly, what he thought was not
relevant. The bench served as an object lesson: Edric, himself, was an object,
something that could be tied down for ease of access and used by anyone who
happened by.

Suddenly he wondered if Thorvald would
ever release him from the bench. Even if he survived being fucked by the entire
crew, would he simply be kept hog-tied like this, his ass in the air, greased
up and ready, available for anyone who wanted a quick fuck? A shudder of heat
went through him at the thought, and he realized that he was spinning out the
idea in his mind like a forbidden fantasy.

The thought was wrong, so wrong, but it
was so delicious too. To be fucked, to be used, to be treated like a piece of
meat by these magnificent men, forever. They would fuck him casually, just to
satisfy a need, while talking over his head about ship matters. Or they would
fuck him roughly, like now, using him brutally, filling him with their strong
seed.

And perhaps Thorvald would come and watch
him. Perhaps he would enjoy seeing him being degraded like that. Leif had
suggested as much, and his look had been very knowing.

Edric breathed quicker as he pictured
this possible future, and he slurped eagerly at Arik’s cock as the thought took
hold of him. Arik groaned, long and loud, and his cock jerked between Edric’s
lips.

Soon his seed jetted into Edric’s throat,
filling his mouth up quicker than he could swallow. Little rivers of come
trickled down his chin.

Reflexively, Edric licked his lips, and
Arik laughed as he let his softening cock slip out of Edric’s mouth. “Thrall’s
hungry, boys,” he called. “Come feed him.”

“Oh, I will,” the next man said. It was
Leif, the redheaded troublemaker. His veined, slightly crooked cock was already
lined up with Edric’s mouth, and he pushed right in, shouldering Arik aside.

“Nnnng,” Edric protested as Leif grabbed
his hair roughly, pulling hard, shoving himself deeper until his cock was
halfway down Edric’s throat. Salt burned on his tongue, and his hair felt like
it was being ripped out.

Behind him, Njal gave one tremendous
thrust and held it, his hips flush against Edric’s, spilling seed into his
depths.

Edric shuddered, feeling the hot spurts
of come inside him.
Use me. Take me.

Even before Njal was done, another man
mounted Edric from behind, pushing his cock right alongside Njal’s.

“Oy, wait your turn, Geirr!” Njal
complained.

“It
is
my turn,” Geirr replied,
pumping his cock deeper as if to punctuate his statement.

Edric cried out at the intense burn of two
cocks inside his hole. He felt cleaved by them, speared like an animal, and he
couldn’t stop moaning even when Njal’s limp cock slipped out and Geirr began to
move further into him, shoving in brutally hard. The cramped, hot feeling
inside him only intensified, and Edric moaned unstoppably.

He was trapped between them, trapped
against the rough wood, trapped by their hot, hungry cocks, and no matter how
hard he struggled, he couldn’t escape it.

Edric could barely breathe, and
everything hurt. His jaw ached from being forced open so wide, his body felt
mangled and scraped against the scarred surface of the bench, and with every
thrust Geirr sent a spike of pain shooting up his ass.

And yet, when one of the men standing
around them twisted his hand underneath his hips, seeking and finding Edric’s
dangling cock, it stretched and leapt into his hand as if it had a will of its
own.

“Nooo,” Edric moaned indistinctly, but he
couldn’t deny how good it felt. Even the pain wasn’t enough to stop the
pleasure. Maybe...maybe it was even adding to it.

Oh gods, he was losing control. It was
humiliating, to feel his body react to this, the sparks of pleasure growing
stronger, brighter, whiting out his brain.

He moaned, writhing against his ropes as
the men fucked him.

“Thrall’s begging for it,” someone said.

“Course he is. Listen to him squeal.
Hurry up, Geirr, I want that sweet asshole clamped around my cock.”

“Holy Frigg, he’s so wet, the little
slut,” Leif groaned, fucking his mouth hard. “Open wider for me, thrall.”

Edric tried to obey, tried to widen his
jaw until his jawbone cracked.

“Fuck,” Leif groaned, as Edric tightened
his lips around the base of his cock, then swallowed hard. He wound his fists
in Edric’s short hair, pulling cruelly. Yet it didn’t seem to be enough for
him; he kept thrusting, hard and fast, pulling Edric’s mouth onto his cock,
then off again, and making sounds of frustration.

Edric’s throat felt raw, and he tried to
look up at Leif through his eyelashes, wondering what was the matter with him.

Then Leif’s rough, horny hand came down
over his face, clamping his nose tightly shut.

At the same time, he gave one rough, hard
thrust, and shoved his cock far down Edric’s throat, until his reddish pubic
hair crinkled against Edric’s face.

There was no air.
No air
, and
Edric’s heartbeat doubled, his panic increasing as he realized that he was tied
fast, that he couldn’t move an inch.

He struggled hard, the hemp ropes chafing
his thighs and arms, and tried to shake Leif loose, but the man had a grip like
iron.

“Die on my cock, little thrall,” Leif
whispered for his ears alone. “Struggle hard, now. It won’t help you, but it
feels so nice when you do.” He pushed down hard into Edric’s throat,
whispering, “Let me feel your throat tighten around me for the last time.”

Leif didn’t sound frustrated any longer,
and his cock was rock hard. Clearly, this was what excited him. This must be
what he did to his other captives, those thralls with tears on their faces. Or
perhaps his captives were all in an unmarked grave on the coast, buried there
after being suffocated by his cock.

Edric whined almost soundlessly, trying
to suck in air past Leif’s cock, but his mouth was stuffed so full that he
could only get a tiny trickle of air, not enough to sustain him. His vision was
darkening. Soon, he would pass out.

Leif moaned deeply as Edric’s throat
tightened desperately around him in his fight for air.

Behind him, as if spurred on by his
struggles, Geirr pumped harder, short fast strokes that rocked Edric hard
against the bench, his chest scraping against the wood.

“Odin’s balls-” Geirr croaked, and shot
deep in Edric’s ass, his cock pulsing seed into his depths.

Edric was sucking hard around Leif’s
cock, desperate to get some air, but he could barely see. His eyes were full of
dark spots, and his head was spinning.

“Leif!” a huge voice called from a
distance. “That’s enough. I need him alive.”

With a barely audible curse, Leif lifted
his hand from Edric’s face, and he could breathe again.
Thank the gods
,
he thought.
No, thank Thorvald
. He knew whose voice that was; it was
Thorvald who had saved him.

The thought made his cock jump, and the
rush of air made him feel light-headed and dizzy.

Still whispering curses, Leif pulled his
cock away, stripping it with his fist. Soon he was coming, spattering his come
all over Edric’s face and hair.

Edric saw his scowl, and knew that this
was a man to beware of. But he felt no fear, not anymore. Thorvald was watching
over him.