Page 23 of Her Viking Lord
“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down my cheek. “You had no real choice, little one. Your body was primed from a week of denial, and you were put in an impossible situation. Horakovsky orchestrated it to humiliate you and Takken both.” His grip in my hair gentled, becoming almost tender. “I forgive you, my sweetvolva.”
The relief that flooded through me was so intense I sobbed, pressing my face against his thigh. But even as gratitude warmed my chest, something darker twisted in my belly. The shame of what had happened, of how my body had betrayed me in that conference room, felt like acid in my veins.
“But I…” My voice came out broken, muffled against his leg. “I still failed you,Herra. I came without your permission. Even if I couldn’t help it, I… I think I should be punished.”
The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and the moment they left my lips, I knew they were true. Some part of me craved the absolution that only his discipline could provide. The strap across my bottom, the burning reminder of my place—it would wash away the confusion and self-doubt that had plagued me all week.
“Look at me,” Aksel commanded.
I raised my tearstained face to meet his gaze. His eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“You’re asking to be punished,” he said, not a question but a statement of fact. “Tell me why.”
“Because I need…” I swallowed hard, searching for words to explain the tangled knot of emotions in my chest. “I need to know I’ve paid for it. That you’ve forgiven me properly. With your hand, your strap. I need to feel owned by you again, not by what they did to me.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “Such a good girl, learning to ask for what you need.” He stood abruptly, his cock still hard and glistening with my saliva. “Come.”
He led me to a dark corner of the room I hadn’t focused on earlier. There, something large stood, covered with a dark cloth. With one swift motion, he pulled the covering away, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was a massive piece of carved oak furniture, of a design I’d never seen before—but whose shameful use seemed immediately apparent to me. Its shape, its leather padding, its curves… and the leather straps attached to it, for binding the limbs of the thing’s occupant. It seemed terribly old, thoroughly worn, the wood polished smooth by centuries of use. Norse knot work covered every surface. My stomach clenched with nervous anticipation as I pictured myself straddling its top, helpless to keep the image from filling my mind’s eye.
“This bride saddle belonged to my ancestors,” Aksel said, running his hand along the curved wood with reverence. “Fifteen generations of Sons of Odin have used it to train theirbed thralls.” He turned to me, his expression serious. “You’ll be bound to it, whipped for your transgression, and then I’ll claim yourrøvhul. Through that combination of punishment and violation, you’ll ascend higher into Yggdrasil than you’ve managed before.”
My entire body trembled at his words. The thing I’d been both dreading and desiring all week was about to happen. My most private place would be breached, claimed, while I was bound and helpless. The thought made me clench so hard I whimpered.
“Strip,” Aksel commanded, already moving to adjust something on the bride saddle. “Everything off. Then come here.”
My hands shook as I removed my rumpled clothing, letting each piece fall to the fur-covered floor. The collar around my throat seemed to pulse with warmth, and somehow I thought I could already feel that strange clarity beginning to creep in at the edges of my vision. When I stood naked before myHerra, he guided me to the saddle with firm hands.
“Mount it,” he said, helping me position myself over the curved wood. “When you are on my saddle, you are both rider and steed.”
The leather padding was soft against my inner thighs as I spread myself wide to accommodate the saddle’s width. My bare pussy pressed against the smooth surface, already leaving a shameful mark of wetness.
Aksel reached over me, then around me, efficiently binding my wrists to iron rings set into the wood in front of me, forcing me to lean forward slightly. Then he secured my ankles to the base, spreading my legs even wider until I felt completely exposed, my bottom raised and presented. The posture left me utterlyrevealed, unable to close my legs or shield any part of myself from his gaze or his touch.
“Perfect,” he murmured, running his hand over my raised bottom. “Now, you’ll receive twenty strokes with the strap for coming without permission. Count them.”
I heard him retrieve the leather strap from somewhere behind me, and my whole body tensed in anticipation. When the first blow landed across both cheeks, the fire that exploded through my flesh made me cry out.
“One!” I gasped, my hands clenching uselessly against the bonds.
The second stroke fell immediately below the first, and I sobbed out, “Two!”
By the tenth stroke, I had begun to wail, my bottom burning with an intensity that seemed to radiate through my entire being. But something else was happening too. With each impact of leather on flesh, I felt myself rising, my consciousness beginning to separate from my body even as the pain kept me grounded in the physical moment.
“Fifteen,” I whimpered as the strap caught the tender spot where bottom met thighs.
The collar grew warm against my throat, and suddenly the wooden beams of Aksel’shúsbegan to shimmer and transform. Silver branches materialized around us, growing from the bride saddle itself, reaching upward into impossible heights. I was ascending even as my body remained bound, climbing through Yggdrasil’s infinite canopy while the strap continued to fall.
“Twenty!” I screamed as the final blow landed precisely across my sit spots.
“Good girl,” Aksel said, setting the strap aside. I heard him moving behind me, and then felt the cool touch of oil being drizzled between my burning cheeks. His finger circled my bottom-hole, spreading the slickness, preparing me for his enormous manhood. “Now yourHerrawill mount you.”
CHAPTER 13
Lorna
The blunt head of his cock pressed against that forbidden entrance, and I let out a broken sob. Even with the oil, even with his finger having prepared me, the size of him seemed impossible. The burning from the strap across my bottom made every nerve ending hypersensitive, and I could feel myself trembling violently against the bonds.
