"Viking!"

(MF BDSM nc anal caution cast)

Aeffe was intently hoeing the little field, preparing for planting. Too late, she heard the hooves of a galloping horse, turned, and saw the Dane almost upon her. She raised the hoe before her, but the huge, mail-clad warrior snatched it from her grasp, wheeled his mount, and, with the strength of one mighty arm, lifted her off her feet. For an instant, she hung by her braided, blonde hair, and then she found herself thrown face down over the horse's shoulders, in front of the rider, who rode bareback. As the horse galloped away, taking her away from home and family, she could not even cry out, for she could hardly breathe. Her ribs and belly were compressed with every stride.

The horse was reined in, and she managed a long scream, hoping someone would hear and rescue her. After all, there was only one Viking raider, but the villagers, if any heard, dared not show themselves. She felt strong hands around her waist, lifting her in the air, and then she was thrown forward, against the horse's neck. She felt her skirt lifted, and she was set down, astride the beast, the horse's sweaty hair pressed against her bottom and her inner thighs, its mane tickling her belly, while her captor's muscular legs pressed the backs of her thighs. He pulled her arms behind her and bound her hands with a soft leather strap. She felt his legs move against her, as he signaled the horse to walk, and, as the rippling muscles of the horse's shoulders, and her captor's limbs, too, stimulated her uncovered skin, she felt a strong arm around her waist, and then higher, across her breasts.

Aeffe had little knowledge of the world beyond her village. She didn't know that many of the tribes and nations of Britain had paid Danegeld for protection from random raids, but Devon had never come under the Danelaw. While the coastline was not easy to land on, the people prayed every week for protection from the dangerous Danes, who could appear suddenly from the sea, to rape and pillage and disappear as quickly as they came. Aeffe did not know where they went. She had never heard of Byzantium or Antioch or Tripoli, where blonde Saxons and blue-eyed Celts fetched good prices in the slave markets.

The horse picked it's way down a stony path, down toward a beach. Though she lived but a short walk from the sea, Aeffe had only seen it once. Young maidens seldom stray far from the village fields. Aeffe was fascinated by what she saw. A long, double-ended ship was drawn up on the stony beach. A dragon's head topped the stem post. A great tent of hides, ship shaped, was erected on the beach. The huge man behind her lifted her from his mount and put her on her feet. The stones of the beach were uncomfortable under her feet, but a lifetime of going barefoot made her disregard that. She was thankful that her skirt fell once again around her legs.

The strong man gripped her bound wrists and lifted, until Aeffe was forced to bend at the waist. He forced her to walk to the tent. Inside, a few men lay relaxing, being fed by female slaves. Most of the pirates must have been out scouring the countryside. Thirty or more young women, all naked, those who were not serving, lay on beds of furs. Most were bound, hand and foot, but lay in repose, as if simply waiting for something to happen. One, Aeffe noted, was bound tightly, curled up in a ball. Her ankles were bound to her upper thighs, so that her weight was on her knees and toes, on bare stones, not a fur. A rope around her neck pulled her head down, between her knees. It passed backward, between her legs and buttocks, to her tightly bound arms, behind her. The woman looked very uncomfortable, and seemed to be sobbing.

Aeffe felt her hands being released from their bondage. "Take off your clothes, slave." the warrior commanded. While he spoke with a strange accent, Aeffe could understand him. He was big and blond, with a scar across his nose and cheek, and he smelled of sweat and leather.

"No." she said. "I am a free woman, not a slave."

Before she knew what was happening, she found herself face down, her breasts mashed against the stony floor, her skirt bunched around her waist, and her captor's knee upon her back, pressing her down. She felt his rough hand upon the tender, pale skin of her rump, and then a moment of respite.

"Slave." the warrior said, "I am now your master. You will do as I say, or suffer punishment."

Aeffe shrieked in surprise and pain, as the flat of her master's dagger blade fell upon her rump with a loud smack. "Be quiet, slave, and take your punishment bravely." she heard, and she gritted her teeth, pressed her lips together, to stifle the involuntary groans which escaped her, each time the heavy instrument fell upon her tender flesh. At last, the punishment ended. "Now, take off your clothes." she heard again.

Aeffe struggled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. She turned to look at her tormentor. She noted other pirates, and their slaves, looking at her. One of them had evidently enjoyed what he saw. He pulled up his kilt, as he sat on the ground, revealing a huge male member. Aeffe had never seen such a thing, so unlike her little brother's. The seated Viking reached out for the nearest slave girl and pulled her down on him, impaling her with his pole.

The feel of a knife point at her throat distracted Aeffe from the spectacle. She looked at her captor, saw a sunburned, scarred, bearded blond giant, a face she would never forget. She began to unlace her bodice.

It was with some embarrassment that Aeffe let her dress fall from her shoulders and stood, naked, before the Viking. She tried to cover her crotch and breasts, but he swiftly turned her and bound her hands behind her back again. She looked over her shoulder at him, and at the others, but no one seemed to be watching. They evidently were used to naked slave girls, and to seeing one fucked roughly on a warrior's lap. It was only the punishment which had interested them. Her master's voice was close: "Tell, me slave, are you a maid, a virgin?"

"Yes."

"You will address me as Master." Aeffe held her tongue. "Is your maidenhead intact? No man has touched you, between your legs?"

Aeffe declined to answer, until she felt a hard slap on her buttock, which was especially sensitive, after her beating of only a moment ago.

"No man has touched me." Slap! "Master."

"Have you ever put your fingers in there? Or anything else?"

"No, Master."

"Stand there, slave. Do not move." Aeffe stood, her knees together, her hands bound behind her. She tried to hold them away from her flaming backside, which still ached from the beating. "Stand with your feet apart." she was told, and she moved her feet a cubit apart, standing, proudly, without reply. She felt a leather strap being passed around her waist, and it was buckled in back, beneath her bound hands. She looked down, between her breasts, and saw to her horror an iron grillwork, a kind of basket, which her master forced between her thighs and fastened with straps around each thigh, tight straps, right up against the crease of her buttocks. "You will not remove this, unless I tell you to." The tight straps, and the iron, wider than the natural space between her thighs, pressed uncomfortably on her tender skin, but Aeffe bore the discomfort. Moving her legs a bit farther apart relieved the pressure on her tender inner thighs, but increased the tightness of the leg straps. "You will fetch a much better price if you remain untouched."

He pushed her roughly toward some furs beside the wall of the tent. Aeffe had to walk awkwardly, with her feet apart, because of the iron in her crotch. Another slave lay there, bound hand and foot, but she hunched herself a little to one side, to make room for Aeffe. Aeffe's master began to bind her ankles together, side by side, but Aeffe cried out, "Master, if you do that, the iron will scar my flesh and make me less valuable." The bearded giant scowled at her, grunted something, and retied her with her ankles crossed, her knees flexed and spread. Aeffe wondered if that was an improvement, for she could sit, but it would be very difficult to lie down to sleep, whether on her back, her stomach, or her side.

Each Viking had a personal slave, one thoroughly broken and trustworthy, to take care of his personal needs. When Aeffe's master, for instance, did not care to bother going outside to make water, his slave would hold a bowl for him to piss in. And she would lick the end of his pisser clean. The master's slave served him at the evening meal, then ate, herself, and brought his leavings for his other slaves to eat. Each slave was permitted the use of her hands, to eat, and was allowed to crawl, as best she could, outside the tent to relieve herself. Then each was again bound and left on the floor.

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Aeffe could not get comfortable, could not sleep. The other slave, no virgin, slept soundly. Finally, in desperation, Aeffe used her bound hands to release the buckle of the belt around her waist. She tried to position herself so that the iron cage would fall away from her crotch, but it would not, for the leg straps held it tight. The ends of the belt, however, did fall in front of her, and there was no way she could bring them together to rebuckle them. Of course, in the morning, her disobedience was discovered. Her master said nothing. He refastened the belt, as tightly as he could, so Aeffe felt she could hardly breathe. He untied her hands and feet, and he, with his personal slave, led Aeffe some distance from the tent, to a place where the shore was very rocky. The master forced Aeffe to lie, face-down on the stones, and his slave handed him two spears. He bound Aeffe's wrists, far apart, to the shaft of one spear. He bound her feet, as far apart as they would go, to the shaft of the other spear. By now, there were spectators, twenty or so Vikings, and at least as many young slaves. To prevent Aeffe from lifting her body from the punishing stones, her master used two more spears to spread the first two apart, stretching Aeffe on a rectangular frame of spears, as if she had been a curing bear hide.

This time, her master used a leather ox whip, and he applied it all up and down her body, from her neck to her feet. He even lashed the soles of her feet, until she doubted she would be able to walk again. In several places, the lash left livid welts -- the tender skin over her ribs, under her arms, and between her legs, and on both buttocks, where the whipping was most severe. At last, she lost the strength to scream, and they left her there, conscious only of her pain.

She was dimly aware that the Vikings were packing their tent, loading their ship, preparing to leave. The tide came in; the cold, salty water splashed over Aeffe's feet. Soon the breaking waves rushed up the vee of her parted legs and splashed through the iron grill which protected her chastity. Her numerous lacerations stung fiercely as the salt water reached them, and, as the tide came higher still, Aeffe found herself straining to lift her head, holding her breath with each breaking wave, lest she drown in the sea water. She almost wished she would, just to spite her cruel master.

At last, the Vikings refloated their ship, and Aeffe was released and carried aboard the ship. At sea, as there was obviously no chance to escape, the slaves were seldom bound, though they were often bound, even tied to trees, when the Vikings made camp on shore. The Vikings had no rowing slaves, as such. When going into battle, the Vikings rowed their own ship, their shields displayed along the sides, then leapt from their benches to fight. But, on a leisurely trading run, with a ship full of women, it was easier to let them row, whenever the wind was adverse, which was most of the time. With her bruised and scabbed backside, it was difficult for Aeffe to sit and row. She had to pull her oar half standing, and the muscles of her back and legs and belly became, first, sore, and then stronger. Her master joked with his companions that she would have to be fattened up, before he sold her While rowing, Aeffe was at least warm. When resting, and there was never enough room to lie down, Aeffe was almost always cold and wet, naked in the British springtime weather. When, however, the ship worked its way along the coast of Iberia, and past the Pillars of Hercules, Aeffe was allowed to wear a cloak, so as to preserve her precious fair skin from the sun. The fairer the skin, the better the price, in the Levantine markets.

There was a time when Aeffe was almost jealous, to see her master fucking the other slaves. There is no privacy on a ship. His personal slave seemed to enjoy it, crying out how good he was to her. That seemed to put him off, and he would fuck another slave three or four times, before going back to his regular bed- warmer. There came a time, however, when her master had drunk too much mead and was in a surly mood. He bent Aeffe across a rowing bench and tried to enter her after hole, which was not covered with iron. She squeezed her muscles, resisting his entry, until he took a tent peg and drove it into her. She screamed, thinking she must surely be bleeding, and she begged her master to stop. He pulled the tent peg out and replaced it with his meat. Aeffe mewled in pain and disgrace, as her master plumbed the depths of her backside. It hurt, and she was sure her tender tissues were torn and bleeding. When, at last, the giant withdrew, he forced Aeffe to use her mouth to remove the blood, semen, and shit which befouled the Viking's meat.

Aeffe never again resented the attention her master gave the other slaves. They professed to love him. They praised his manliness, said how blissful it was to have him sheath his manly weapon in their bodies, filling them, giving them indescribable pleasure. She hated him. One slave even proclaimed she was jealous, when their master, apparently out of boredom, spent a whole afternoon torturing Aeffe. They had gone ashore, for water and plunder, and the master had found some stinging nettles. The nettles were covered with countless tiny hairs, venomous hairs which would penetrate soft skin, causing a stinging, burning, itch. Master used his long sword to harvest a bagful.

The master summoned Aeffe and loosened her iron cage enough to stuff it with nettles. His calloused hands seemed not to mind them, but Aeffe's virginal female parts flared into soul-searing, flaming, pain. The Vikings all laughed, to see Aeffe rolling on the ground, clutching herself, screaming in frustration, clawing at her iron-shod crotch, unable to even to scratch herself. Later, when she was assigned to row, her master made her sit on nettles, which again caused her agonies such that she wished herself dead. She discerned, however, that the cruel men liked to see her suffer, and she used every bit of her will to keep quiet, to pretend the nettles simply cushioned a hard rowing bench.

Near Cyprus, Aeffe was sold to a Syrian slave dealer, who waited until she had her monthly period, to prove to a buyer that, at very least, she was not pregnant. He sold her to an Egyptian, and, when she was visibly with child, the man freed her, as required by Islamic law, and took her as his third wife. She bore him a son, his first.

When Aeffe had recovered from her lying in, and was ritually purified, Mustafa decided to celebrate. After all, he was rich, with more grain than he could mill. He could afford to buy his wives presents.

A good Muslim must treat his wives equally well. When they got to the market, Aysha demanded and got a magnificent, gold embroidered gown. Saifa selected a heavy gold chain. Aeffe could not make up her mind, until... "Mustafa." she said, "would you buy me a slave of my own?"

"Of course, my love, if that's what you want. Perhaps I could find you a nice girl from Gaza, or Arabia."

"No, honored husband." Aeffe replied, "I want that one." She pointed to a filthy hulk of a man, chained to others no cleaner. He was blond, bearded, and had a scar across his nose and cheek.

"My lovely." cooed Mustafa, "they are captured pirates, pagans, fit only to row the galleys."

"I want that one." She pointed to her former master, who, even had he bothered to look, would not have recognized her behind her veil, with her blonde hair covered. "Mustafa, you have said we have more grain than we can mill, and it is true that our horse is overworked, turning the mill all day. It pains me to use the animal so cruelly. It is harem, offensive to Allah, to mistreat animals. But Allah would not count it against me, if I whipped a kaffir. That barbarian could turn the mill and spare our horse, and he could hoe the garden and carry water. That would allow me more time to nurse your son. Please, Mustafa?"

"Very well, my pious wife, Insha'Allah, I will buy him for you. Of course, he will have to be..."

"Oh, thank you, dear husband." Aeffe gushed. "Think of it, a eunuch of my own."

- The End -

[Note: this story is protected by international copyright law,
all rights not expressly waived are reserved by its author.]

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