Thanks again to u/4zra3l for your wonderdul ideas and editing. Feedback is welcome, send good feedback to her and the other ones to me, haaha. Enjoy. :)
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Meanwhile, in her quarters, Najima paced in the limited area she had, to keep her mind off of uncivilized barbarians that were afoot. She thought of a way of escape overnight, but wisely decided that to be too risky. Her fate would not be a pleasant one, if caught. She considered helping fortify the gate, but of what help would she be? She was a mystic, not a mason or engineer. All she could do was wait.
With the uncertainty and uneasiness of what was going on inside the castle, Svjorn and his men were steady at work. Mid-morning now, they started at daybreak and Svjorn was determined to get that door down today. He solely focused on one thing, finally cracking open the damnable keep. Not about what was inside or on the other side of the walls, business before pleasure.
It was this mentality, coupled with the scouts watching for reinforcements and archers watching intently on the turrets… that allowed the Saxons to pour simmering liquid on the ram crew. Before anyone far enough back was aware it was pouring from a roaring cauldron, raining molten oil upon them.
The first two on the ram were protected by a slight overhang in the gate’s foyer. The next three got burnt alive and the latter five all were able to see what was happening and reacted quick enough to not be cooked in their gear.
Svjorn could not believe his eyes, he made an effort to save the burned men, but there was little he could do. The residual oil was still burning on their bodies and made retrieval impossible. In utter shock, he just wanted to smash the door down with with his bare hands.
“If I get my hands on that Stedgeford!” He seethed… But perhaps diplomacy would have kept Skjal from Valhalla’s door or any of others that had perished. This only added to Svjorn’s disdain of sieges and having to attack a fortified keep. The unpleasant surprise from above ensured that the scouts and bowman were more alert and attentive to their duties. Any time he had lost one of his men in battle he counted it as a loss, even if the battle was won.
“Fucking keeps, damn sieges. Odin curse these Saxon dogs!!” Svjorn’s mind replaying the burning brothers, over and over as he cursed under his breath. “Stedgeford will pay!” The ceremonial pyres would later be formed out of broken timber from the forest and he planned to send all three brave souls to Valhalla with the proper rites.
Afternoon was setting in quickly and Svjorn had two options. Unfortunately for the Saxons, giving up wasn’t what gave Danes their reputation. His plan was a longer log for battering and keen eyes on the parapet overlooking the gate, archers with bow drawn the entire time. Losing more men was not on the agenda.
As soon as the first hit from the new massive fir tree log hit the gate, a white flag was raised above one of the turrets and a voice called out: “Lord Stedgeford requests parlay with an emissary and two delegates. He wishes to negotiate terms of your departure!”
Svjorn looked around ensuring everyone was still on their guard. Wondering if this could be some insidious ploy to catch him with his metaphorical pants around his ankles. His voice of reason told him that it was a legitimate proposal, but there was truth to the saying: ‘Negotiating from a position of strength does not mean you shouldn’t also negotiate from a position near the exit’. With all eyes on him he exclaimed: “Tell your liege he meets real men this day. Open this fucking cursed gate and you have my word, my forces wait outside while we parlay. Understood Saxon?!”
A Saxon darted from one turret to the next, then down the ramparts out of sight, only to reappear a few moments later. “Lord Stedgeford will see you.”
Svjorn brushed off his tunic and called up Jimske and Luski to join him. Both very capable, Jimske allegedly able to choke a bear with his bare hands. They both knew to listen and to follow Svjorn’s lead. An important thing about leadership was, that you couldn’t lead those unwilling to follow and every last one of Svjorn’s men respected their Jarl and would follow him to Helheim and back.
The gate opened, with four pikeman at the ready right inside the swinging threshold. Svjorn and his men squeezed through the tight opening and were met by one of Stedgeford’s advisors, who lead them into the main keep. The gate closed behind them with a rumble, now the jarl and his men were trapped and relied on the lord to honor his word. Oddly enough, the guards did not make them relinquish their weapons, hopefully a good sign.
They trudged on to the throne room, where Stedgeford had the stage set. To his right, captain of the guard, left, political advisor, behind him a mysterious hooded woman and seated next to him on the right, presumably Lady Stedgeford. With a snarl visible on his face, Svjorn continued to look around the room, unphased by the elegant trappings. As his eyes met those of the lord he felt his temper flare, this was the man accountable for the death of his men. Four guards between his party and that feeble wimp, not including the captain… the odds weren’t too bad, but giving into rage would be forfeiting his live, he was behind enemy lines after all. Not a wise move.
“Hmmmm, we have quite the merriment afoot, wouldn’t you say?” Stedgeford said jovially, not sure what to make of the viking and his snarling jeer.
“Aye good sir, tis quite the party.” Svjorn growled, wanting to beat him senseless with the pummel of his axe.
“Well, Dane, we both can win this day. No need to lose any more men or resources.” The lord announced. “I implore you, I am lord over these people and lands. They look to me for protection. I will grant you 600 pieces of silver from my coffers and two of my finest female servants, serfs sold into my service, as their family forfeit them for belated taxes.”
Svjorn’s ears perked up at the mention of female Saxons. If there was anything better to quell his men’s lust for revenge than loot and mead, it was women. He then surveyed the room a little closer, noticing the two plain and boring looking Saxon wenches the lord had to be talking about. They were shaking with fear and constantly moving one of their hands in a cross pattern while unintelligibly mumbling prayers to their god. The first would have maybe been acceptable, though not anything special, but a few brown and missing teeth were not only disgusting, but also indicated bad health. The second would only be usable as a cook, her current profession he guessed, seeing her mere volume.
“No offense, but I hope, for your men’s sake, that those are not the most beautiful Saxon girls around.” The warlord snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think I speak for every man here, when saying that I’d prefer a rabid deer to keep my bed warm over any of those two.” Earning him bemused laughter from his men and even a guard or two squinted there eyes in silent grinning approval.
“Well… these are the only two unspoken for maiden in my court.” Lord Stedgeford muttered slightly embarrassed. Victoria and Tina Vanderdene were not about to be options. “Maybe some fine horses or dogs could find your approval?”
Svjorn could breed his own damn horses and dogs, this was not what he had came for. With a grumble he gave the entire room another once over, in search for anything appealing. When he was almost convinced that this sorry Saxon had truly nothing to offer his eyes met the big deep brown ones of the hooded figure behind Stedgeford. He could also make out a hint of fair slightly tanned skin before the woman hurriedly lowered her head. Too late to ward off his attention, he let his eyes stray down her figure. The form fitting dark dress she wore promised elegant curves… together with her exotic appearance, maybe the lord had something to offer after all.
“What about that one cowering behind your throne?” He asked over an audible gasp, coming from his object of interest. “That one does not look too Saxon to me.”
“Sir, she is one of my trusted advisors.” Stedgeford replied bewildered. “One of my most valuable assets…”
He did not get any further as he was interrupted by his wife, elbowing him in the side, hissing at him. “Who also happens to be an unkempt heathen… surely not of more value than all our Christian souls.”
“Seeing as you have no real leverage… You should listen to your lady, she’s quite wise. Makes one wonder if she hails from Saxony at all.” Svjorn continued,seeing an opening but also noticing the lord was still hesitating. “Two options Stedgeford. The option you choose that sends me from this room without my due will be the same one that seals your fate.”
“Do I have your word on Dane honor, that you will depart once we have made a truce and a deal?” Lord Stedgeford muttered, visibly shaken by the thought of having his wife being sullied by norsemen. He could do that just fine without their help.
Svjorn eyed the hooded female one last time, slowly undressing her in his mind. He was nearly a foot taller than her and twice as wide at his shoulders. He decided then, in his heart, he had to have this unique beauty.
“You have my word, Odin as my witness.“ The viking leader announced, quickly doing some math in his head, he needed five silver coins for each head in his band, enough to pay Jarl Bran’s interests and would get the enchanting vixen for himself. “Allow me the beauty and 400 silver pieces and we reach agreement.”
“Very well viking lord, it’s a deal then.” The lord said, gritting his teeth, as he felt his meek outstretched hand nearly being crushed by his counterpart.
—
Najima was still in shock as a guard lead her to her chambers. The guard not for her protection, but to make sure she did not run away, which she had to admit was not all that unlikely of a scenario, given the fact she was supposed to leave with that hulking brute, that had looked upon her so shamelessly. She still could not believe her lord had just sold her off like some cheap livestock, knowing full well what kind of fate was awaiting her.
With shaky hands she gathered the few of her belongings, stuffing them all into a bag under the watchful eyes of the guard. Thoughts went through her mind, blurred by their speed. She knew nothing of Dane customs or ways but surmised that refinement and gentility were not their strong suits. “If only I had known the sacrifice needed to end the siege would be my own!” Reasoning the course of events in her head. She watched the guard with one eye fending off tears. The only thing she was totally sure of was her life was about to drastically change again…
Svjorn and his men showed themselves down to the courtyard of the keep and waited on the ground level. Jimske hauling the small chest filled with silver. They showed a restlessness that only added to the abhorrence and disdainful looks from the Saxons. Svjorn looks up to the sky; sun sets soon and he hasn’t made plans to go back to main camp or any past this parlay. He ponders options but feels much better after talks with the lord.
Najima came walking down the stone quarried steps leading down to the courtyard with graceful and elegant steps, trying to maintain her composure. Svjorn takes her hand on the last step and softly brings her delicate hand to his mouth, trying his best to hide his awe and intrigue. Giving her a gentle kiss with his lips, he can feel the softness of her skin and can see her beautifully captivating brown eyes as the setting sun’s light shines at an angle to her cowl. He releases her hand and looks deep in her eyes.
“Thank you for joining us, we never did discuss your name. Do you have a moniker you wish to keep?” Typically names were not important, especially for “typical” Saxon ladyfolk.
“My name is Najima m’lord. What shall I address you as?”
“I am Svjorn, jarl of Langeland. You may call me Dane or Svjorn. All the titles in the world do not bestow honor or respect; actions dictate these things Najeemaa?” Still getting used to the newly learned name.
“These are my brothers Jimske and Luski. Let’s leave this place. Luski, carry her things. Jimske, get the silver.”
The gate is opened and the four squeeze back out, Luski last, keeping one eye on Najima. They overstep charred earth and the last ram that was left in the place it was last used. Najima’s eyes take a few moment to adjust to the openness and brightness. Sven though getting close to dusk, errant rays still catching her eyes as she looks around.
She sees the raiding horde and has all kinds of thoughts about her fate. Half donning skins of various animals and all have weapons that look formidable, some with dark burgundy stains upon them.
Svjorn gathers his men around in a circle and explains the terms of the surrender. He then tells everyone to line up and receive their pay for helping in the raid. They line up orderly like, Svjorn ensuring those that fell that their family receive four times their due for their sacrifice.
Sun is setting and he decides it best to head back to camp the way they arrived here, under cover of night. He hasn’t taken his eye totally off Najima since leaving the keep. Her silken dress in stark contrast to the garb of his men. “Back to camp men, our work here is done!” Svjorn feeling triumphant, the swelling pride in his chest slightly diminished, remembering the loss of his men. A somber note to end the otherwise successful campaign.
They marched through the forest and reached the camp at nearly midnight by the moon’s position. His watchful eye watching Najima and for some reason she kept outpacing him. Surely it had nothing to do with Svjorn admiring the lovely scenery of the trek. The scenery might as well have been water or clouds as Svjorn’s lusty thoughts saw and could entertain little else outside of the shape of her bouncing in that silken dress. The moonlight caressing it ever so lightly, a picture of divine beauty.
At the camp everyone exchanged well wishes on a job well done but the exhausted men all took no time heading to their huts. Once everyone has cleared, Svjorn took Najima’s articles with one hand and took her hand in his with the other. An owl; “whoo whooo” in the not too distant treeline. Svjorn’s usually surefooted wording is escaping him for some reason. He leads her to his quarters and opens the door.
With Saxon women, it was easy. They did what he said when he said. No options and no veering. Dane women always listened to Svjorn and although he treated them with respect he never lacked for words. This Persian has him tongue tied and he is not entirely sure why. There was something about her aura he could sense she was different in more than just her appearance.
Svjorn’s quarters had two beds in it and Najima did not understand why. She decided to sit on the edge of the smaller bed, assuming that would be hers. Svjorn went about lighting a fire and warming things up. “Most of what you hear about Danes is made up Najima. If we are feared we have the upper hand many times. Pillaging and looting is what we do and have done for generations. If we were good at farming that would be our claim to fame. We are good at combat and seafaring, the way the gods made us.”
Najima is still trying to figure everything out in her head and even though she doesn’t really Miss Stedgeford and the keep she is not very sure of the rudimentary dwellings she is seeing. “So you live here Sir?”
“Yes, this is where I live when raiding. I have my main home in a place called Langeland, it’s in Denmark. I have a homestead there. We use this camp near the Danish border as an outpost but it suffices.”
“Where are the women?”
“Most are sleeping now and almost all the women in this camp are Saxon. Captured as part of our conflict, they make good cooks and soup. What other questions?”
“Why two beds?”
“Hmmmm, since you asked…” scratching his beard and thinking about his words. “There are times when a woman might be needed to do more than cook? Does this make sense?”
“Sooooo, you need another bed? She cannot even share your bed, yet she shares your lust??”
Still trying to choose his words wisely; “The second bed is for the second wench. If my bed be full she may be needed regardless.” He cannot help himself; “Who am I to deny the Saxon ladyfolk the pleasure of a Dane hero? I may be wild, but I’m no savage!”
The humorous tone in his voice almost makes Najima giggle but the circumstances are too much for that and she can’t let her guard down. She is still wondering what her role here in this camp will be.
“Tonight we rest and in the morn, we feast. Please Najima, rest.” He was tempted to have her sleep in his bed but could sense she was not at ease and also knew what might come of her being close to him. Not a good combination and one that could be traversed in time. “That is your bed for the time, if you need anything, let me know.”
She laid down on the bed and pulled the wool blanket over her. The fire was starting to knock the chill out of the air and she heard Svjorn hit his bed with a loud thud. “Sleep Persian, you are safe here. Rest well.”
She at least liked the sound of his words, if not totally sure she believed him. She kept waiting for the other part of all this and the horrible truth she was traded to the barbarians as their toy, using her nightly to quell the warriors’ lust between battles. With the size of some of those men she shuddered at the notion.
Svjorn was out cold as soon as he hit the bed and Najima knew this. Her mind raced at the possibilities of her fate. These fanciful thoughts slowly faded and supplanted by warmth and memories of the Morrocoan coast as the fire heated the abode. She drifts to sleep with memories of dates, sweet home and the cards.
Svjorn woke up before the sun, his manhood throbbed. Hard. It’d had been nearly a week since he was last milked by a servant and with the siege and everything, in his sleep he dreamt of taking Najima. Taking her in a manner she hadn’t known and few women would ever know. Unleashing his primal passion on her but he knew where these thoughts arose from and knew it best not to give in to such desires. He was reluctant to tell her the reason for two beds was because after tougher battles and conquests, it took more than one woman to satiate him. One would be worn out and a jellied mass in no time in such instances and the bed was for the spare.
Svjorn had never pleasured himself, his whole life. There was always a girl around to help him relieve the pressure, even when he was wvery young. The thought had crossed his mind a time or two but he never went through with it. So now, his dilemma: the lust-filled Dane pondering options.
“Najima!” He shot out her name, knowing she may have been asleep. She was playing the part of sleeping beauty; awake and on guard. Surely she was to be violated if she went to the viking. She tried to fill her mind with happy thoughts and leave the anxiety and “what ifs” behind. Even through all her turmoil and trials Najima never felt alone, she had her cards and Manāt, both of whom she has never been done wrong by. True loneliness is not always being alone, it is feeling an absence of connection to something or someone.
“Persian, I wish you with me!” It sounded like business time and she turned in a slow motion towards his bed. The fire burned in the background and even her silhouette was beautifully cast on the abode’s wall.
“M’lord?” Acting to rub the sleep from her eyes, still wearing her gown from the previous day.
“Join me, this bed grows chilly.”
He sounded nice enough and well she was still a bit frostbitten from the march; “Hmmm, yes m’lord.”
She flips out of the bed and gingerly walks over to his. Svjorn raises the quilted cover up so she could crawl it. She slides into the bed and under the cover with one graceful motion.
He wraps his strong arm around her and tries hard not to kiss her neck or take it too much of her scent. Best behavior… best behavior.
“Thank you Persian, we will both be warmer this way.” She feels his manhood obviously erect as they spoon but his hands don’t wander and she doesn’t feel threatened by him at all. Laying close she can see the village and how everything goes according to plan for Svjorn. Being close to him he has an air of nobility almost. Not in the snooty Saxon sense, but his demeanor and his pride. She can also sense his heart is pure and free of malice or hatred. Her second sight also gave her the ability to read people relatively well.
Svjorn pulls the Persian prize close to him, just wanting her very close. A Saxon he’d have already had her face forced down his pillow and her pussy stretched past capacity but he had no desire to break his new toy nor did he wish to make a bad impression. The hulking warlord on his best behavior, taking all his energy to contain himself; practice he was not accustomed to.
After a few moments; “You know Dane, you really should behave yourself!!”
“I am Najima, I am.”
“Then explain all these grunts and groans and heavy breathing, eh?” She turns to him with eyebrow raised. “So?”
Her sassy tone only further exciting him. With a sigh, Svjorn chooses his words very carefully. “I am tired from the siege and from travels Persian.”
“Is that all?”
Best behavior… damnit the mantra is wearing thin; “You arouse my inner senses and having a difficult time, please forgive me.”
“Wait… don’t your kind just pillage what they want and rape the women they want??”
“That is a bit harsh…” He wasn’t able to finish his statement.
“I’d tend to agree, raping and ransacking is a bit harsh!”
“I have yet to rape a single woman, for your information. If she offered herself to me in exchange for lighter treatment or for better overall outcome, is that truly rape? You cannot rape the willing naive Persian. If any a single woman had said no, that is the answer. No questions or discussion. There may be severe repercussions for her but I know what I stand for. My men take more liberties, but for me I know how to handle myself.”
She turns to Svjorn, looking at him searching. Then her hand across his face, SLAP! To think, things were going so smoothly. Svjorn thrilled to his core. “Save your rhetoric and semantics! Lord Stedgeford told me of your kind!!”
He wasn’t in the mood to explain intimidation tactics, what came out of his mouth; “If I can win a battle without fighting it, I count that as a win/win?”
He rubbed the side of his face but kind of enjoy the slap. She turned back over and they both settled into the bed. His hard Danish cock still fully erect and his arm draped over her. She didn’t know what to think about their discussion but it resonated with some truth to her and her senses. Svjorn positions himself so he exhales onto her neck and then can inhale her scent. Najima feeling at least a little more at ease and Svjorn enjoying himself with her close.
Svjorn drifts off daydreaming about Najima bent over and him seated in a throne of Saxon jewels. Her tan skin, oh goodness, causes a reflex twitch amidst his pelvic region. Najima tries her earnest best to relax and rest.
Slices of daylight made their way through the hut’s door. Najima woke with the clamor outside and could hear men and women talking and laughing. Svjorn was laying on his back, his manhood still fully empowered and it showed past his loincloth and protruded up supporting the blanket. “No damn way…” she thought to herself noticing the outline under the blanket.
She was intrigued and tempted to look under to see. Svjorn was dead asleep and would never be the wiser. Her inquisitive curiosity getting the best of her she peeks under the cover, keeping one eye on the Dane’s breathing. It is dark but she can make out the outline, having moved the loincloth to the side. “That is not natural??” She ponders to herself. She wants a closer look, her womanly lust slowly starting to bubble up. She peers under the cover and it is… shaped like a massive oak tree. Somewhat pointed at the head and thick as her forearm in the shaft but at the base it has her in awe.
The few encounters she had at the keep were nothing to write home about and she saw no use for a larger sized penis, until she laid eyes on that thing. My goodness, she is taken aback and quickly replaced the cover and curls up next to the slumbering giant. She goes over scenarios in her head of what she could and couldn’t do with it. Maybe, then again.
A missed breath and Svjorn stretches his arm and around Najima’s shoulder. She was so soft to him and that was his first waking thought. Wow, it wasn’t a dream he looks down at her and smiles. She innocently looks up at him; “Good morn m’lord. I owe you an apology for last night.”
Svjorn gives a chuckle; “Haaahahaaaa, that was foreplay in my bed. You’ll have to do more than that to offend this Dane.”
She motions to slap him again but this time his reflexes stop her hand mid-flight. He looks her in the eye playfully, her eyes shifting, not knowing what his response will be. He holds her by the wrist with little effort, watching her squirm in his grasp. Hmmm, morning games. “I was just going to playfully smack you, you brute, you liked it!!”
“Well, that is true but for me to let loose your arm, there is a price. I must trust you and you trust me, understood?”
His voice so much more calm and mellow in the morning and a few octaves lower. It actually sounded sexy and she responds in kind. “I think I understand, what is the toll to regain use of my arm?”
“I need you to relax for me.” Slowly loosening his grip. “Can you do that?”
“Yes Sir, as you wish.”
He moves from his back to his side and his massive Danish pole brushes her leg. “Now lay down beautiful, you need this.” She is very anxious but compliant next to his towering physique. He massages her thighs softly with his strong powerful hands.
She lays down and watches his movements. The lumbering viking actually moving with grace. He continues to massage her legs and moves down under the covers. His head between her thighs. “M’lord!! You said we’d have breakfast this morning!”
“I never detailed what kind.” He pushed her gown up and above her hips and massages her legs more. Then down to the calves and to her feet. His head still nestled between her thighs, he blows softly on her inner thigh to bring about the lighter sensations. Hmmmm, her smell driving him wild and him channeling all of that into pleasing her and helping her relax.
She thinks to herself it feels ok but not sure what the big deal is? Then he places his lips around her clit then kisses it softly. Exotic Najima never having experienced this before she starts conjuring up images of the king and the harem. Svjorn is in heaven kissing her lightly, he knows such things. Grabbing her hips he moves her closer to his talented tongue. Removing his lips and now softly licking; slow motion up then down. His hands firmly planted on her hips massaging with strength and focus on mission.
Najima was used to quick and one sided encounters, this whole approach is new and intriguing. She could get used to being pleasured by this powerful viking… her thoughts slowly fading from her vision of a powerful ruler and her lust directed at Svjorn. After all he bested Stedgeford, through strategy and strength. She becomes more verbal and starts grinding on his bearded face. “How is your Persian breakfast?? Dane!?”
Nearly half her age, the Persian entertains the warlord with her words. It drives him mad for her to be in such a manner. All his life no woman dare talk fo him like that and it felt so good for her words to caress his invincible ego. His strength only matched by her beauty. He slides one finger inside her brown lips and his thumb in her tight ass still licking. Yes another thing she has never felt but it feels pleasant and she welcomes his advances.
He stops a moment to throw the quilt aside and to see her face as he works his magic. The light in the hut now making most everything quite visible, including her faintly tanned skin and perfectly shaped womanhood. Back at it, the wise viking knows there is time for her to learn her duties pleasing him but for now, he needs her to mellow out and the best way to make that happen is to bring her to a nice wonderful climax.
His mouth back in position he could taste her juice from here to eternity and back. It tastes like mead bathed in sunshine then dipped in gold from Valhalla’s most gifted valkyries. The wetness is all in his beard and as her orgasm builds she wonders about her smell… she hadn’t bathed in full day. The funny thing, the primal side of the Dane detested washing prior to such events, it only made the act more sterile. Hygiene has its place but naturally occurring sweat and such, ohhh my, what a delicacy.
She looks down at him and grins and is beginning to understand him better now. Maybe these vikings do get s bad rap, especially from those they harass. Her thoughts solely on Svjorn and his power, she could now attest to such things as no man has gotten her anywhere close to the land she is heading.
Yes, Dane take me to the promised land. Grabbing his hair and helping him ever so lightly get in position. With that movement his thumb goes deeper in her ass and his index finger slides in out of her perfect pussy. He can tell she is close with her erratic breathing… then applies more pressure with his tongue focusing on the sides of the clit and licking up with hard motions on one side, then down with force on the other. Trying to prolong it slightly, out of enjoyment and knowing it will help her more, the more powerful it is.
Her back is arched slightly and wants to finish something fierce. Svjorn feels she has been good and knows how to help her finish. With just his thumb on the outside of her ass pushing gently, he takes his other hand and fingers her with lightning speed then pushing up towards her belly button. His lips wrapped around her beautiful button, sucking with supple strength.
He can feel it now; “Ohh yes my sweet, cum for me!” A work of art she is, by Odin. Biting his lip and taking all his willpower to behave. She arches her back and lets out a long moan, pushing his head away out of relfex.
Svjorn grins at her playfully and she looks up at him with amazement; “What kind of barbarian magick was that????”
“One reserved for only the most precious and beautiful, of course. There is a hot spring we can bathe in when you are ready.”
She takes a moment to gather her thoughts and Svjorn looks around for two terrycloth towels. Clearly a bachelor dwells in the cabin, nothing is in its place and just generally in a disorganized state. It needs a womans touch badly, like the viking himself.
He finally figures out where the towels are and gives her a bearskin to warm herself with once they exit. She is not looking forward to any of this but here goes. “Shall we?” He opens the door and closes it behind her. The sun is bright and almost blinding with the newly fallen snow on the ground. The two walk through the village, all hailing Svjorn as either Jarl or Brother, most bow their heads in respect and give Najima a bewildered look as she follows. She felt out of place in Saxony but this was all together different.
At 80 paces outside of the camp, they get to mountain face. They scurry around the ledge of the mountain and on the other side is a steaming pool, kept warm by natural hot springs. Mother nature’s hot tub, if you will. The water stays well within safe range year round, one of the reasons this location was chosen for the outpost.
Svjorn removes his tunic and bearskin boots and dips into the water. It feels so good to be out of the cold. Najima is actually excited at the prospect of a warm bath and hurriedly removes her gown and bearksin shawl. They are the only two at the springs, as it is late for most. His eyes closed and just enjoying it and she is having a hard time figuring out a bath can be made warm without fire. Vikings and their magick.
There are small naturally formed ledges around the perimeter and they sit within arm’s length of each other. Svjorn considers asking questions but they can wait; time to relax and decompress. The steam rolling up to his face, once in a while it brings wafts of her scent from his beard to his nostrils. Tsk tsk, he starts getting hard again. Najima noticed and is in a more playful and relaxed mood than last night. If nothing else the bath is a win.
She thinks about teasing the massive viking but detours those thoughts, he needs no help. Then she takes her foot and rubs it along the side of his muscular thigh. The unexpected experience feels so wonderful to the Jarl, he places his hand on her foot and squeezes gently. Steam rolling up from the spring bath, it is crystal clear, all the way to the four foot bottom.
Najima leans back and gives in lightly to his gentle touch. Squeezing the arch at first, then massaging the sole. Her diminutive foot fully framed by his massive hand. He notices now her brownish skin in the full sun, more than ere before. She is eyeing Svjorn with a slight blissful look on her face as he notices her eyes. My goodness, the epitome of beauty. The oceans of dark brown paint a masterpiece to Svjorn and it ignites an inner fire.
His exuberance is evident as his face lights up when he looks in her eyes. Najima is still a bit bashful but can’t help but grin at his natural excitement. She doesn’t feel it is driven by his desires or lust but something from a simpler time in his life. There is also the feeling he has no desire to take from her, only to give. Najima picked up on all these subtleties and delights in her massage.
Thoughts of everything and everyone fade from his mind like steam fading into the air. Her lovely features eclipsing everything from his past he takes in her beauty and thanks Odin for the blessing. Svjorn is not familiar with the word or idea of exotic but he knows she is different and that makes her all the more lovely.
He switches feet and lifts her foot to his mouth to kiss. He kisses the bottom of her foot, light kisses on her sole. He watches Najima as he does and she has her eyes closed. Time for some fun. He takes her middle toe and places it in his mouth and sucks, still watching her. She gives him a sultry smile and he goes to grasp for his best behavior mantra and it is replaced with WOW.
He massages down her leg and focuses on her calf a few moments and feels her other foot nudge his throbbing manhood. He extends a bit so she can get to it fully and feels her foot trail up and down his shaft. His full being aroused. “Bend over beautiful, keep an eye on the path.”
At this stage, whatever he says sounds like a good idea and she bends over the edge of the hot spring. He takes in her body with the steam rolling off it and moves closer for a taste. “Keep an eye out sexy and spread your ass for me.” She moans with understanding as she spreads her cheeks and moves close and just takes in the sublime vision.
What better way to help his lovely guest relax than by giving her a soothing tongue bath. Hmmmm, yes my sweet. He can taste slight hints of sweat and it makes his Dane manhood swell even more. He sits and gets comfortable on the ledge. Running his hands over her succulently soft legs and up to her sides and massaging her breasts. The c cups feel perfect in his strong masculine hands, their roughness only making her softness more evident and obvious. His tongue laps gently over her as something altogether comes over Svjorn.
He is still focused on helping her relax and feel at home and could eat her ass for hours. It brings him an inner joy and his own needs can be put aside for the time. He squeezes her nipples with light pressure and twists with a sensual touch. He can’t help himself and extends his tongue in her tight warm ass. Najima gives in to the warlord then. He moves his hands from her breasts and locks hands with hers, so wonderful. He pulls her close with her hands and extends fully for her. It feels so right with this beautiful princess.
Any other lustful thoughts of other girls or places are firmly supplanted by the shimmering beauty in front of him. Najima is in ecstasy but strongly needs him to be inside her and he can sense this. He stands up and leans over: kissing her neck only furthering stoking her inner fire. Svjorn kneels her on the ledge with her pussy up in the air, taking his unworldly thick cock in his hand. “Relax for me baby.”
He slides the head around her lips to get plenty of wetness. She looks back at him a moment with a come hither smile and it drives him nuts, her eyes slightly glazed over. He knows, and is time, sliding slowly inside. He feels stretching hardly slightly past her perfectly shaped lips and knows she will be very tight.
Najima is reminded of her past life in the keep and the baths she’d have there. Ohhh what a glorious upgrade. Her arousing fantasies of the magnanimous ruler giving way fully to Svjorn; his strong chest shining under the sun, in contrast to the tanned skin of his sweet submissive. The powerful Dane senses her submission and his soul thanks Odin for such beautiful blessings. Surely the heavens are the only place such succulent and satisfying sensations could be born of.
“That’s my good girl, relax for me.” Najima doing her best to accept him but knowing it would be a challenge. Svjorn feels her stretching to his thick manhood and not even half in he submits in his own way, ensuring his actions reflect his affection and not his unbridled lust. He slides further in knowing she will have a difficult time past that.
Najima feels pleasure and passion mixed with pain at his girth and wants him fully inside now. They make love under the sun, enjoying each other and the untainted nature of the spring. He is content not forcing himself inside, his carnal impulse to impale giving way to his heart’s desire to cherish and protect her. “Rub your clit for me beautiful.” He wants to her feel her climax on his manhood. She happily complies and Svjorn spreads her cheeks again and slides his thumb inside.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/apiadz/in_the_cards_pt_2_bdsm_viking_dominance_persian