Owned by the Vikings (3 page)

Absently, he licked away a splash of come
from his lower lip, smiling at the salty taste. For some reason, this made Leif
scowl even harder, but he was soon pushed away by Hafgrim, a tall burly man
with huge rough hands who was apparently next in line.

Edric breathed deeply, still giddy,
feeling the air flow into him like wine. He was losing track of the men around
him, of everything except the powerful sensations they were giving him.

Another slick cock was pushing into his
ass, now, and doing it so slowly that it made his hole clench again and again,
fluttering around that hot hard length. There was no pain, not any longer; it
was beginning to feel amazing, instead, hot thrills of pleasure shooting up his
spine with that slow-burn entry.

Moaning, Edric begged for more. He could
feel hands on his cock, milking him, pulling at his length while the Viking
behind him sank into his ass.

Gods, it should not feel so good, he was
so stretched and full and yet he wanted more, delicious pleasure leaping higher
and higher until he couldn’t stand it, white light in front of his eyes -

Edric came hard, splashing the rough
decking beneath with his come, and almost passed out from the sheer bliss of
it. Aftershocks shuddered through his body, and he heard the man fucking him
groan as he felt Edric’s hole tighten hard around his cock.

Hafgrim was in front of him now,
grinning, his huge rough hands on Edric’s head, guiding him closer. His cock
was like a tree root, as huge as he was, veined and hard as oak.

Edric licked at it, wetting the purple
head with his spit, and Hafgrim’s big hands petted his hair.

“Mmmh,” Edric moaned as the man fucking
him from behind increased his pace. It had to be Ogleif thrusting into him, he
recognized the rhythm - those short, dragging, shallow thrusts that drove him
crazy. They were too much and yet not enough, not deep enough, not hard enough,
they rasped at him without
taking
him.

And yet every rasping thrust made him
wilder. His body felt super-sensitized to every touch, his skin prickling with
the need for more.

The Vikings who had already had their turn
were standing around Edric now, stroking him, fondling his cock, rubbing drops
of come into his skin.

As he sucked on Hafgrim’s treeroot-cock,
he felt other stiff cocks being pushed into his empty hands.

Edric clenched his fists around them,
groaning when Ogleif began fucking him even slower. Ogleif’s fucking was a
torment, his stiff rod dragging slowly over Edric’s sensitive hole, back and
forth, sawing into his tender channel. So slow, so maddeningly slow.

“Is he still tight, Ogleif?” someone
wanted to know.

“Tight and slippery as hell,” Ogleif
reported tersely, thrusting in slow.

“Wait til I get my turn at him,” someone
yelled from further away, one of the men who were rowing the ship.

Oh gods
, Edric thought dimly,
pulling on the cocks being pushed into his hands,
there’s still the second
shift
. Ogleif had said it: after those other men had rowed their thousand
strokes, they would get their turn.

But he couldn’t focus on that, couldn’t
think about anything but hot wet Viking cock in his mouth, in his ass, in his
hands.

Hafgrim’s rough hands twisted in his
hair, hard, forcing him to tilt his head back a bit.

“You still with us, thrall?”

“Nnnh,” Edric said around his cock, eyes
wide and a little dazed. But apparently that was good enough for Hafgrim. He
began pushing deeper into Edric’s mouth, fucking into his throat, moving fast
with hip-thrusts that slapped his balls against Edric’s chin.

Soon Hafgrim was coming, spilling more of
that salty ocean-tang down his throat, making Edric swallow again and again to
keep from choking. And yet he felt like he could swallow more of it; he was
beginning to relish the taste, the sensation of that heavy fluid sliding down
his throat like thick honey mead.

Giddy, Edric tried to move, forgetting
for a moment that he was tied fast to the bench. He wanted to thrust against
something, feel friction; his cock was hard again, even harder than before, and
needing relief.

Hands were grabbing at him again, but not
in the right
place
, damn it, they were slapping his ass and stroking the
sweat-slick bumps and hollows of his spine, where all Edric wanted was hands on
his cock,
now
.

Hafgrim’s cock slipped from his mouth,
and for once he had breathing room, nobody else was shoving their way in
immediately.

Edric took a long, gulping breath of
delicious fresh air and begged, “Please touch me, please, I’m so hard, please,
oh gods...”

Nobody seemed to be listening to him or
understand what he was saying. His tongue felt mangled and swollen, coated with
come, and he had no idea if the words spilling from him made any sense.

Ogleif thrust into him hard, one fast
stroke after many slow shallow ones, and that was almost enough to bring Edric
off without anyone touching him. Almost. But it was Ogleif who was coming
instead, spilling more seed into him when he was so drenched already, hot slick
fluid dripping down his thighs.

As soon as he was done, Ogleif jerked his
cock out and yelled, “Second shift!”

There was a groan from the men around
Edric and a huge cheer from further away, where the rowers sat.

He heard a clatter of oars, men moving
about, bodies appearing and disappearing from Edric’s view. The shift was
changing.

Edric was losing track of how many men
there were, how many had already touched him, fucked him, spilled their seed
inside him. How many more were waiting now.

He did know one thing: Thorvald hadn’t
touched him yet. Thorvald had been rowing, watching Edric from a distance.
Watching over him. And now, Thorvald was waiting for him.

Sweating Vikings surrounded him, their
huge bodies pressed close. The air was full of the scent of their sweat; they
had been rowing hard, eager for the thousand strokes to be over.

Eager for their chance at him.

In no time at all, his mouth was stuffed
with hot cock again, his ass was breached, more shafts were being pushed into
his slippery hands, and Edric gave himself up to it all, moaning like an
animal.

He wasn’t looking anymore to see who
fucked him, who wanted him to suck them, whose hands were on his ass, pulling
his cheeks apart so wide that he felt split open.

They wanted to fuck him, and he was here
to be used. He was their thrall, and they wanted him.

Edric wasn’t afraid any longer; he knew
he could take it, take all of it, and still want more.

“Fuck me,” he moaned around the thick
salty cockhead stuffing his mouth. “Take me, fuck me-”

Someone slipped a thumb into his hole,
next to the fat cock already pumping into him, and Edric cried out wildly,
shrilly.

“Look how wet he is,” someone said in a
low guttural voice. “And how sweetly he begs. Let me taste him.”

“I’m not pulling out for you,” the Viking
fucking him from behind growled back. “Lick his hole if you want, but don’t get
in my way.”

A tongue speared into Edric’s hole,
licking, slurping at the river of seed that squelched from his ass with every
thrust of the man fucking him.

“Frigg’s tits, you’re so dirty, Drifa,”
another Viking laughed. “Look at you, on your knees, sucking seed from a
thrall’s hole. How does he taste?”

“Like a fucked-out cumhole,” Drifa said,
his voice thick. “Nice and salty. Want some?”

“Fuck, no. I’ll take his mouth instead.
Move over, Ingmar.”

Edric paid no attention to the backchat.
He had his hands full. And his mouth, and his ass.

More jostling and pushing, and then there
were two cocks in his mouth, striving against each other, stretching his lips
and his jaw.

Edric jerked spasmodically with every
thrust into his ass, trying to keep his mouth open wide so the men could pump
deep into his throat.

His head was spinning; he felt like he
was drowning in come. His hands were wet with it, his ass was drenched with it,
and he must have swallowed gallons of it.

He was so stretched out, so fucked out,
so wet and slippery and messy. His body trembled, aching with sensory overload.
And still Thorvald had not touched him.

The man behind him was groaning, fucking
him hard, his balls hitting Edric’s ass every time he sheathed himself. Every
thrust rasped over that red-hot swollen spot inside Edric, sending hot sparks
of pleasure through him.

“More, more, please...” he cried. But his
words were completely inaudible, thanks to two of the Vikings pumping his mouth
full of cock, sliding deliciously against each other.

They were both close to coming, he could
tell; he was an expert at judging the state of a man’s cock by now, and these
jumping, jerky thrusts were a clear sign, as was the salty taste of pre-come on
his tongue.

The man kneeling behind him suddenly
decided to pull out, and Edric moaned at the aching slide out of him, leaving
him empty and wet, his hole gaping open.

Warm seed spattered over his back, his
thighs, marking him.

“Odin’s balls, that was good,” the Viking
behind him said, relishing it, shaking his cock over Edric’s back to get rid of
the last drops. “You want your turn now, Thorvald? We got him good and wet for
you.”

“He should be able to take Thorvald no
trouble, now,” someone else said with a guffaw. “Could take a horse, too, if we
had one on board.”

Edric swallowed around the cockheads that
stuffed his mouth, feeling them stiffen and jerk and spurt their seed into him,
deep into his throat. He couldn’t even taste the hot slick fluid, it went down
so fast.

One after the other, they were pulling
out of him, and suddenly he was empty for the first time in hours. No one was
fucking him in front or in back, no one was shoving a hard cock into his hand.

There was a hush of anticipation, and in
the sudden silence, Edric felt his heartbeat echo in his ears. He was so hard,
dripping wet and sore, desperate to be claimed and taken for good.

The Vikings crowded around him still, but
now they parted, making way for one who towered over all of them.

It was Thorvald.

Finally, oh thank the gods, it was
Thorvald’s turn.

Edric’s body knew him before his dizzy
mind caught up, and his cock jerked with the scent of him. That salty musk
flooded his nostrils, and he sniffed deeply, blissfully.

Thorvald stepped closer, right in front
of him. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, thick and long and big, so big.
He was swollen and hard with need, already leaking glistening fluid at the tip.

Edric swallowed hungrily, then opened his
mouth as wide as he could, hoping Thorvald would use him that way first. He
wanted that taste on his tongue, that huge cock down his throat as far as it
could go.

But Thorvald was too tall to reach with
his mouth alone, and he wasn’t bending down enough for Edric to lick at him.

Edric couldn’t look up far enough to meet
Thorvald’s eyes. But he sensed the gaze of the giant Viking roaming over him,
over his trembling, exhausted, come-drenched body.

“Please take me,” Edric moaned, barely
audible, the words falling from his swollen mouth at random. “Use me, Thorvald,
please fuck me, I need you to-”

He was begging. It was wrong to beg, to
abase himself, Edric knew that on some level, but he didn’t care. It would feel
so good, if only Thorvald would use him now, he knew he could come just from
that.

And it would feel so good to let all that
pent-up pressure go, after he had been so stretched, so fucked, so covered in
these men’s come that he barely knew how he had survived it all.

His body vibrated with need; his dizzy
mind buzzed with it.

Then Thorvald was striding past Edric’s
head on those long legs, moving towards his rear.

Oh gods, please
, Edric begged.
Don’t
let him leave me here, tied up like this. Don’t let him be disgusted with me.
Please let him touch me. Please let him take me.

The other Vikings were all around him,
muttering in low voices; he could sense that they were waiting as much as he
was. They wanted to see Thorvald fuck him.

Then Thorvald was there, behind him,
pressing that immense cock into his fluttering, eager hole.

Edric was so wet, so slippery and loose,
that it was far too easy.

He forced himself to tighten, to clamp
down hard around Thorvald’s cock.

Fight for it
, he told the Viking
silently.
Fight me for it.

He was running on pure instinct now, and
he knew that that was what the Viking leader wanted. Not a will-less slave, but
an opponent. Someone who had been fucked by two entire rowing crews and still
had spirit enough to struggle against him. That Edric had been begging for his
cock a moment ago didn’t seem incongruous at all.

Thorvald growled, low in his throat, a
bear-like brute sound of need, and pushed hard.

His huge hands landed on Edric’s hips,
and for the first time, the heavy wooden bench scraped across the deck with the
force of his next thrust, his hands pulling Edric towards him with brutal force
as he rammed into him.

The Vikings cheered as the bench moved,
and Edric cried out the names of his gods at that long, raw slide into him,
shuddering with pleasure when Thorvald’s balls finally slapped against his ass.

In one mighty stroke, Thorvald had
sheathed himself completely, despite all Edric’s attempts to make it difficult.

He was pinned, held fast, completely
immobilized by the ropes around him, the wooden bench beneath him and
Thorvald’s massive shaft inside him.