Page 37 of Her Viking Lord
His hand settled on my lower back, pressing down slightly, and the movement made the plug shift. I couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped my lips.
“Let me demonstrate properly. Dmitri, bring the dildo from the cabinet.”
I heard Dmitri moving, the sound of a drawer opening, then his heavy footsteps returning.
“Just a variable speed vibrator,” Horakovsky explained to Takken as if discussing golf clubs. “Watch closely. This is an education.”
Dmitri knelt behind me, and I felt his large left hand grip my hip. The buzz of the vibrator starting made my whole body tense. Then he pressed it against my clit, and the sensation combined with the fullness of the plug sent lightning through every nerve.
“No, please—” I gasped, but Dmitri was already working the vibrator in slow circles, the intensity building gradually.
The dual stimulation was overwhelming. The plug’s pressure from behind and the vibrator’s relentless attention to my swollen clit created a feedback loop that had me climbing toward orgasm with frightening speed. And as the pleasure built, I felt them—the silver branches of Yggdrasil, shimmering just at the edge of my consciousness.
But then Dmitri shifted the vibrator, pulling it away from my clit just as I teetered on the edge. The loss of stimulation made me sob with frustration, my hips bucking involuntarily, seeking the contact that had been denied.
“Not the clit,” Horakovsky instructed. “Inside her. I want her husband to see what happens when we fill both holes while denying her release.”
I felt the thick head of the vibrating dildo press against my entrance, and despite everything, my body opened for it eagerly. The sensation of being filled in both places simultaneously was beyond overwhelming—the plug stretching my bottom while the vibrator pushed deep into my pussy, the combination making me feel split apart.
Dmitri began working the dildo with evident, if mechanical, skill. He angled it to push against a place that made me gasp and cry out. Each thrust pushed me higher, and with the climb came clarity—the silver branches materializing more solidly, Yggdrasil’s infinite expanse opening before me. I could almost see the threads, almost grasp the knowledge waiting there.
But just as I approached that precipice, just as the visions began to crystallize, Dmitri slowed his rhythm or changed the angle, pulling me back from the edge. The loss felt more than physical—each time I fell away from orgasm, the world tree faded,leaving me gasping and desperate in the mundane horror of my reality.
“Please,” I sobbed after what felt like the hundredth denial. Time had become meaningless, marked only by the cycle of climbing toward release and being yanked back. “Please, I can’t?—”
“She’s learning,” Horakovsky observed with satisfaction. “See how she pushes back now? How her body seeks the stimulation even as her mind rebels? This is true submission being born.”
Dmitri continued his relentless rhythm, the vibrator filling me while the plug remained seated deep in my bottom. My thighs shook uncontrollably, my arms barely holding me up. Sweat dripped from my face onto the carpet, and I could taste salt and desperation on my lips.
Each time I approached climax, the visions grew stronger. I saw the Arctic facility in stunning detail—security codes flickering past my consciousness, architectural blueprints spreading like maps, the faces of guards and workers. But before I could hold onto any of it, Dmitri would shift his technique and I’d plummet back into my body, the knowledge slipping away like water through fingers.
“It’s been thirty minutes,” Vassily announced with a chuckle from somewhere behind me.
Thirty minutes? It felt like hours, days, an eternity of being held at that knife’s edge of pleasure. My pussy clenched desperately around the dildo, trying to create the friction I needed, but Dmitri had learned my body’s responses too well. He kept me suspended in that space between agony and ecstasy, never allowing me to tip over.
“Enough,” Horakovsky said suddenly, and Dmitri immediately withdrew the vibrator, leaving me gasping and empty. The loss of stimulation after so long on the edge made me sob openly, my whole body shaking with unfulfilled need.
“I want to give you an important choice, Norquist,” Horakovsky said, his voice carrying a note of dark amusement. “Your wife is desperate to come. She’s been on the edge for half an hour, and her body is screaming for release. So I ask you—should I let her? Should I allow your whore wife the orgasm she’s begging for?”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to see Takken through my tear-blurred vision. He sat rigid in his chair, his gray eyes cold as they met mine. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker there—not compassion, never that, but perhaps a recognition of my suffering.
“No,” he said flatly, and my heart sank. “She doesn’t deserve it. Not yet. As far as I’m concerned, she shouldn’t be allowed to come at all.”
Horakovsky’s laugh filled the cabin. “Interesting. No climax for her at all while she’s at my facility?”
Takken took another sip of his whiskey, considering. “No. Let her learn what real denial means.”
The casual cruelty of it, delivered in that matter-of-fact tone, hurt more than any physical punishment. My own husband had just condemned me to three days of this torture, three days of being brought to the edge and denied, all to curry favor with this monster.
“Excellent decision,” Horakovsky said with evident satisfaction. “You’re learning quickly, Norquist. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.” He nudged me with his boot. “Did you hear that, little cunt?Three days. Seventy-two hours of being edged, teased, used, but never allowed to come. By the end, you’ll be begging to lick my boots for the chance at release.”
A broken whimper escaped my throat. Three days. The prospect stretched before me like an eternity. Already my body thrummed with desperate need, every nerve ending raw and over-sensitized. How could I possibly endure three days of this?
“Put her in the cage,” Horakovsky commanded suddenly. “We’re almost at the facility, and I want her properly ready for her arrival, and grateful to be allowed to stand up.”
Dmitri and Vassily hauled me to my feet, my legs barely supporting my weight. They half-carried, half-dragged me to the back of the vehicle where a metal cage sat bolted to the floor. It was barely large enough for a person to kneel in, the bars close enough that I couldn’t fully extend my arms.
They shoved me inside, the metal cold against my heated skin. The position forced me to remain on my knees with my bottom raised slightly, the plug still firmly seated and now pressing against the cage bars behind me. A small padlock clicked shut, sealing me in.
