The bed creaked, and I heard the chest lid open. I caught a glimpse of what he withdrew. Another of the stone columns, though larger and carved differently—its head more bulbous, the shaft slightly curved, and studded with protruding nobbles.
“No!” I protested, fighting my tears.
“You agreed to all.” He sat again and parted me.
I could offer no resistance and awaited a cruel thrust to the hilt, but he eased it inside me. With each nobble sliding into me, I could not help but gasp.
“Bastard!” I hissed, but he said nothing, only holding the thing still. My own will counted for nothing.
After some moments, he withdrew it—just as slowly, until it left me altogether. It was to be a slower torture, and one that amused him regardless of his ill night’s sleep. He rubbed the rounded head where I was swollen—nudging, teasing, before penetrating me again haltingly with its full length.
I kept my eyes on the wall and bit my lip.
It would soon be over. Soon.
Next, he twisted it, so that it touched in new ways, and moved his other hand low beneath my belly, palm hot. I drew breath sharply as he extended his thumb to press against my most sensitive place.
I was unable to move or resist as he simulated the act between a man and woman, using the shaft of stone to slide into me, back and forth, and the pad of his thumb to taunt me.
I pushed into the bed, but he raised me on his palm so that his impalement became deeper. I buried my face in the sheepskins, refusing to let him hear me moan. Despite all I felt—my hatred and humiliation, anger and disgust—I knew what he was coaxing from me. A burning warmth was overtaking all thought. Pain and piercing pleasure were building. When it broke, the wave sent me tumbling, rending a cry that tore from my throat and had me straining against the bonds that held me.
Eldberg’s voice was almost weary. “Mine already, thrall.”
* * *
He left me tied all day, but without the harness—without the invasion of his toy. Twice, Ragerta came to hold a cup to my lips, helping me to drink. For my other needs, she slid the pot beneath me.
My chest was tight with refusal to weep.
I’d crossed a threshold, betrayed by my body. Though the secrets of my heart were my own, Eldberg had won some small part of me, and so easily.
I listened to the working sounds of the hall—hushed chatter, and a woman’s voice giving orders. From outside, there was the sound of cows and the bleating of ewes. There was hammering, the thud of butter churning, flapping wings, and sudden squawking.
Ragerta brought me thenattmalof vegetable broth, spooning it into my mouth with swift efficiency. I asked her if Eldberg had done this before and what had happened, but she merely shook her head without answering, as if worried who might hear her.
Afterward, I lay quietly, knowing he would come soon.
By the time he did, the room was full dark, and he lit the wick in a dish of oil, as he had that first night.
He did not come near me at first, and I remained turned away as he undressed. I did not wish to look on him as he removed his clothing, though I had no doubt his eyes were upon me. I heard the clink of his weapons and the soft fall of his tunic and leggings to the floor. Much time passed before he said, “Do you wish me to touch you?”
I kept my face turned. “I’ve agreed to serve you, but I’m your unwilling whore. Whatever happens is your wish, not mine.”
It was an insolent answer and ill-advised, but he spoke no threat of punishment. Instead, he untied the sash about one of my ankles and rubbed the skin, his calloused hands firm in their kneading, restoring the flow of blood.
Climbing upon the bed, he removed the restraint from my other leg and caressed me in the same manner.
A lump formed in my throat, but I gave no thanks. Whatever kindness he showed me was for his own ends.
Being partially free, I should have felt better able to defend myself, but there was no truth in that. He’d merely gained power to position me in other ways. My hands were still bound, after all.
I resolved to do nothing to help him.
Fuck me, and it shall be as if I were a corpse.
His leg brushed mine as he ran his hands along my calves and thighs, keeping my legs parted around him, until he clasped my hips.
Leaning forward, he brought his lips to my buttock—his breath as warm as his tongue.
