Page 14 of Her Rogue Viking
“I said your body was mine to explore, to pleasure, and to punish. I hope the latter will not prove needful this fine morning, but as to the first two…”
“Please… do not…”
“Mine, wench. You will no doubt recall the consequences of disobedience.”
“Why must you continue to threaten me? We both know how this will end. I am not a fool, I know what to expect.”
Ulfric paused, his palm now resting against her exposed buttock. He squeezed gently. “I rather think you have no idea whatsoever what you might expect from me. You do know, now, that disobedience will get you punished…” He squeezed her tender bottom again by way of reminder, “…but submission brings its own rewards also.”
“It is not submission when you offer me no choice. When you threaten to beat me if I do not… do not?—”
“We shall see. And I shall not beat you, ever. You will be spanked if you deserve that, but I will do you no harm. For now, I shall be content to settle for a more intimate exploration of the sweet lips I and my men glimpsed yesterday evening when you were so delightfully displayed for us over yonder tree trunk.” Hesmiled to himself at her anguished whimper but pressed on with his assault on her senses and her emotions. He had no doubt at all that she had hated being bared to them and treated to ten hard strokes of the switch. It had been necessary, and she had found the entire experience painful and humiliating. The wench would never admit to desiring any repetition of it. He had taken that at face value, but the glistening sheen that coated her nether lips as he wielded the switch was not lost on him, nor was her outpouring of vulnerability and need afterwards. His little Fiona had been aroused on some level, and he intended to test that response further now. She could deny it all she liked, but her body would tell him the truth.
She made as though to clamp her thighs together as he slid his fingers around and started to explore the deep crevice between her buttocks.
“No. You will remain open, spread for me.”
“Please…”
“Wider, little Celt.” He tapped her inner thigh, urging her to offer him better access.
“But, your men… They will know, and?—”
“I doubt they will be shocked so please do not trouble yourself on that account. In any case, they have their own tasks to attend to. We are, to all intents and purposes, quite alone.”
It was clear that she did not believe him since the little wench lifted her head to gaze about her, then she dropped her chin again to rest on his chest. He found he did not entirely care for her air of dejection and defeat, but he supposed it was to be expected. She was powerless, clearly reluctant, but too afraid to resist his demands.
Perhaps it is too soon?
No. He was her master, she his slave. He would have his way.
Ulfric resumed his sensual journey between her clenching buttocks, pausing when he reached the tight rosette of her rearhole. He circled that with one fingertip as she gasped and buried her face in the front of his woollen tunic.
“Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head quickly, though he had no illusions regarding her opinion of such intimacies. He resumed his lazy play, pressing gently on that pursed ring of muscle until she pleaded with him to stop.
“Sir? Ulfric? I have never… please, not there.”
“No, of course not there, not this time. But soon…”
He moved on, now slipping his fingers lower to explore between her soft folds. Her soft and very moist folds.
Yes!He had known it. The Celtic wench might well be embarrassed and apprehensive, her mind recoiling in aghast horror at his bold and intrusive touch but her body was eager enough. She even parted her thighs for him, perhaps not realising what she was doing.
Still reaching around her, Ulfric spread her lower lips from behind and slid his fingers along the length of her slit. He stroked gently, back and forth, smearing the copious moisture on his fingers, then bringing it back to her puckered anus. This time when he pressed, the tip of his finger entered her. She squeaked, and he withdrew. It was enough.
He reached around and beneath her with his other hand, this time seeking her most sensitive little bud. He found it, already swelling and deliciously plump, and started to draw his fingers back and forth across the very tip. His touch was slow, lazy almost, but he knew exactly where to concentrate the sensation for the most devastating effect. This was her first time, he was sure of it. He would make sure she did not forget what he could do to her if he chose. If she earned it.
Fiona groaned, writhing against his hand. He did not believe she was even aware of her actions as he built the pressure, hisunerring caress drawing out a response he was quite certain she had no idea might be lurking.
“Ulfric, what is happening? What are you doing?”
“Am I hurting you?”
“I do not know,” she answered, her tone one of pure dejection. “It feels… strange.”
“Is it unpleasant?”
