Page 24 of Her Viking Lord
“Breathe, little one,” Aksel commanded, one hand settling on my lower back while the other guided himself against me. “Your body knows how to submit. Let it happen.”
I tried to follow his instruction, forcing myself to take deep breaths even as I felt him begin to push inside. The pressure was overwhelming, a burning stretch that made tears stream down my face. My bottom-hole resisted at first, clenching tight against the invasion, but Aksel was relentless. Millimeter by millimeter, he pressed forward.
“No, please,” I gasped, even though I knew I didn’t mean it. “It’s too much, you’re too big?—”
“You can take it,” he said, his voice carrying that absolute certainty that made my body believe him even when my mind rebelled. “Yourrøvhulwas made to serve yourHerrathis way.”
The collar burned against my throat like a brand. I closed my eyes. I saw the tree, looked up into its canopy, and began to rise. Suddenly the silver branches around me in the vision began to pulse with light. Each tiny movement of his cock pressing deeper sent me climbing higher through Yggdrasil’s infinite expanse.
The pain and the strange, overwhelming fullness seemed to crack something open inside my consciousness. The abject shame of pushing that way, of opening like that at a man’s command, for his taboo pleasure, seemed like a wind under me, lifting me into the boughs.
With a final push, myHerraseated his massive tool fully inside me, his hips pressed against my welted bottom. I screamed at the sensation—not entirely from pain, though there was plenty of that. It was the complete and utter possession of it that threatened to overwhelm me, the way he’d claimed this last part of me that I’d kept private even from my husband.
“There,” Aksel said, his hands gripping my hips as he held perfectly still, letting me adjust to his size as he enforced the impalement of my virgin ass. “YourHerra’s cock is buried in your tight little bottom. You’re completely mine now, Lorna. Every hole has been claimed.”
The words should have filled me with shame, but instead I felt something else—a strange sense of completion, as if this was what I’d been missing all along. Through my tears, through the burning stretch of accommodation, I could see the threads more clearly than ever before.
“The Arctic,” I gasped, the vision crystallizing with stunning clarity. “Oh, God, I can see it. Horakovsky’s base. It’s not just one installation.”
“Tell me,” Aksel commanded, beginning to move inside me with slow, shallow thrusts that made me sob with each motion.
“Three sites,” I panted, my consciousness soaring through the branches even as my body remained bound and impaled. “Connected by underground tunnels. The permafrost… they’re using the permafrost as natural insulation for something. Batteries, massive battery farms, but not just for energy storage.”
The vision sharpened with each deep thrust of myHerra’s cock in my violated bottom. Through my tears, I saw the true purpose of the Arctic installations with terrifying clarity.
“They’re going to weaponize the energy grid,” I gasped, my fingers clawing at the ancient wood as Aksel’s rhythm grew more demanding. “The batteries aren’t just for storage… they’re for controlled surges. Horakovsky can destabilize entire national power systems, create artificial shortages, manipulate prices by—oh, God?—”
His angle shifted, pressing against something inside me that sent sparks through my vision. The threads connecting everything glowed brighter, showing me market projections, political ramifications, the systematic destruction of Northern Europe’s energy independence.
“He’ll hold Jagland hostage,” I sobbed, the fullness in my bottom making it hard to think, hard to breathe, yet somehow also making the visions clearer. “Make us dependent on Russian gasagain while he controls our renewable infrastructure. Takken knows. He’s getting paid to let it happen.”
“Good girl,” Aksel praised, his thrusts becoming deeper, more purposeful. “But there’s more. I can feel you holding back from the highest branches. You need something else to ascend fully.”
His hand left my hip, reaching beneath me to trace along the smooth leather of the saddle. “Find it, Lorna. The bride’s consolation. Every saddle has one—a small gift for the thrall who serves well.”
I didn’t understand at first, too overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his cock claiming my most private place. But then, as I moved over the leather, searching for anything to ground myself against the intense sensations, I found it—a small, polished knob of wood protruding from the saddle’s surface, positioned perfectly to press against…
“Oh!” I cried out as I shifted forward, the little knob making contact with my swollen clit. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through my already overwhelmed nervous system. After a week of being denied my master’s touch, that simple pressure against my most sensitive spot had me instantly teetering on the edge of climax.
“Please,” I begged, my voice breaking as Aksel continued his relentless rhythm in my bottom. “Please,Herra, may I come? I need—I can’t?—”
“Yes,” he commanded, driving particularly deep. “Come for yourHerrawhile his cock fills your tight littlerøvhul. Let it take you higher.”
The orgasm hit me like a lightning strike, every muscle in my body locking as waves of impossible pleasure crashedthrough me. I screamed, grinding desperately against the bride’s consolation while Aksel’s thickness stretched and claimed me. The combination of sensations—pleasure and pain, fullness and friction, submission and transcendence—shattered something fundamental inside me.
And suddenly I was soaring.
Higher than ever before, through silver branches that seemed to stretch into infinity. The Arctic installations spread before me like a map of pure malice, and then something else crystallized in my mind with horrible clarity—a path forward that made my stomach turn even as my body convulsed with pleasure.
I saw myself approaching Horakovsky at another gathering, letting him see my interest, my submission. The vision showed me offering myself to him, playing the role of a bored political wife seeking excitement. He would be suspicious at first, but his ego—that massive, brutal ego—would win out. He’d want to show off, to impress me with his power. He’d take me to the Arctic base himself, unable to resist displaying his grand plan to someone he thought he’d conquered.
“No,” I sobbed, even as another orgasm ripped through me, my body grinding desperately against the bride’s consolation. “No, I can’t?—”
But the vision wouldn’t release me. I watched myself in Horakovsky’s bed, his massive frame looming over me while Takken watched from a chair in the corner, forced to witness his wife’s degradation. I saw Katya and Mila there too, all of us reduced to playthings for the Russian’s amusement. The scene played out in excruciating detail—every touch, every violation, every moment of shame that would be required to get close enough to gather the intelligence we needed.
Orgasm after orgasm crashed through me as the images burned themselves into my consciousness. I was coming apart, splitting between the woman bound to this ancient saddle with herHerra’s cock buried in her most private place, and the woman in the vision who would have to betray everything she’d found here to save her country.
“Please,” I wept, though I didn’t know what I was begging for. “I can’t do it, I can’t?—”
