Ægir’s Bride

NOTE: This is book 2 of a series about a submissive female, kidnapped and 'married' to three Norse god-like fishermen. The first book, Ægir's Captive, may be found in Nonconsent/Reluctance. While it always contained strong BDSM themes, I would not have presumed to place it in this category because there is nothing safe/sane/consensual about kidnapping your bride...and any Dom who would...well...even though I am sub, I am also damned good with a flogger.

But the final chapters in that book saw a marked turn in our heroine as she chose to truly submit to men to whom she had always been attracted. It was such a sea-change (pardon the pun) that I felt it incumbent to begin a whole new book...in the category to which this story truly belongs now...BDSM.

Of course, there will still be elements of reluctance...otherwise Doms bore too easily. Nonetheless, she had surrendered herself to her 'husbands' if not her Fate just yet. If non-consent and kidnapping is a bit strong for your tastes, I have done my best and will continue to do so...to catch you up so that this may be a stand alone book.

The other thing to remember is that this story is not about 'play.' It is about relationship, relationships actually when you throw in the poly bit. This is about a lifestyle that is 24/7 and domination which is as inbred in these men as their blond hair. It is also about a woman, who has spent a lifetime fighting her own submissive nature...while at the same time striving to be everyone's 'good girl.' These are as close to real, flawed people as I can make them.

And as such they will make mistakes...break the rules of our lifestyle...because they reacted with their emotions and not some BDSM script or bible. Honestly, I have never met a perfect Dom or that 'good girl.' Even in the lifestyle, we play with fire and burn others or get burnt ourselves. Please keep that in mind as you read their struggles to fight and at the same time give into their very natures.

Enjoy...

***

Kirsty Dickens looked around the table. As they had over breakfast that morning, the family seemed to be all talking at once. She on the other hand had spent the past fifteen or twenty minutes silently pushing the food around on her plate. The couple of bites that she managed to force down were excellent. On top of everything else, her new mother-in-law was an amazing cook.

The woman sat at the head of the table, like a queen holding court. To her right sat, the man, whom Kirsty supposed, was the woman's husband. Olaf was chatting with Sven, the woman's oldest son, who sat across from him and to the left of his mother. Kirsty frowned, whatever they were saying was lost on her. She was not certain if it was Swedish or Finnish, which they spoke, Petrine had said that all of her boys spoke both as well as a few more languages. These men, who were Kirsty's new 'husbands', were anything but simple fishermen.

Her husbands? It still boggled her mind. Three days ago, she had taken a train from London to Tilbury, just to have coffee with this man, whom she had been messaging for months. The man, whom she had met on a social networking site for those interested in BDSM. BDSM? Bondage...discipline...domination...submission...sadism...masochism.

Those two bites that she had managed to force down seemed like a ton of bricks on her stomach at that moment. The whole thing was so out of character with her. The only child of two consultants, she had spent her whole life trying to gain their approval...their love. To be their 'good girl.' She had gone to the 'right' schools and studied hard. While she might not have been the brightest student, what she lacked in superior intelligence, she made up for in hard work.

She always wondered if that was the problem, if she had been smarter...or prettier...maybe her parents would have been able to love her more? But she had not been. She had been merely average. Well, maybe not even that, when it came to looks. With her flaming red hair and freckles that covered almost every square inch of her plus-sized body, she was anything but pretty.

She shoved a pea around the plate a bit harder. That was what she did not get...especially after meeting Petrine, her new mother-in-law. She was glad that she had not tried to force that pea down too, because she feared that she would have choked on it just then. She snuck another quick glance at the woman.

Not only could the woman cook, raise and educate three amazing sons, and love four men, she had to be stunningly beautiful too. She knew from Bjorn that his mother was in her early sixties, but other than the head full of long silver hair that was definitely not drab grey and a few lines on her forehead and around her eyes and mouth, the woman could pass for at least two decades younger. And the way her svelte body filled out the jeans she wore made Kirsty's plus-size eighteens see green.

Kirsty still could not believe any of this was happening. How had a brief coffee to get the rough fisherman Dom, whom she had been messaging for months out of her system before she did her best to find another 'suitable' man, who would meet her parents' stringent criteria for future son-in-laws, how had that turned into kidnapped and married? Married to three men? Three brothers? Three very dominant men, who all wanted something very different from her?

She observed them surreptitiously. Sven, she knew he was in his late thirties, but the fine lines in his forehead and around his mouth only enhanced his manly beauty. The plan had been simple: meet this man, whom she thought was the one with whom she had been communicating and sharing her darkest fantasies for months, for coffee. Put her fantasies to rest and get him out of her system.

He did not seem to notice her observing him as he talked with his uncle. Or the man he claimed as his uncle. That was another part of this whole polyamory, though polyandry was the proper terms...one woman...three 'husbands?' How did he know? Could Olaf not be his father instead of merely an uncle? That was one of the questions that Kirsty had not dared to bring up while she and Petrine had their long chat about the 'facts of life' as Petrine called it.

There had been more than enough to talk about, without bringing up something as delicate as paternity. Kirsty fought back the need to laugh hysterically. It was not every day that you met your mother-in-law. Hell, she had been in a relationship with her ex-boyfriend Raj for six years, and never once met his parents. Of course, looking back, that should have told her something. None of that mattered now though, in the end, the man had given into family pressure and married a second cousin from India. Little more than six months later and the newlyweds were already expecting their first child.

But pregnancy was not a line of thought that Kirsty wanted to consider at the moment herself. Not after having unprotected sex with two of her 'husbands' in the past seventy-two hours. She brought the glass of water slowly to her lips as she looked around the room again. As tight as her throat was at the moment though, it was hard to even swallow a sip of it.

Her husbands? Sven with his dark blond hair, which was just beginning to be laced with the silver of his mother's, and those piercing blue eyes, he reminded her of Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. In this modern world, she was certain that it was not easy making a living fishing the artic seas, but this man was determined to see that the way of life his family had followed for centuries did not die with them. He was determined to make Ægir's Captive a success. For him, his brothers and their sons. She sighed heavily...the sons that he expected her to give him. Give them. But she was not going to think any more about that tonight.

She watched as he chuckled at something his 'uncle' said. But that laughter did not make it to those intense eyes. She had noticed that it never really did. Stress thrummed through this man like pressure building in a geyser. The only release, the only safety valve, seemed to be those stolen moments he spent in her bed. Well, more accurately, the control that he took when he bound her in his ropes, trapped her in his web, and used her as he saw fit...as he needed in that moment.

Maybe that should have seemed wrong. She was certain that her feminist mother would call it 'demeaning.' But his domination had been what got her into all of this to begin with. Well, more accurately, her intense and illogical need to surrender control, to submit, to him.

To them, she sighed, as she caught 'baby' brother's gaze across the table. He had been talking with his mother. She knew that of all her sons Petrine was closest to her youngest. Bjorn had been allowed to remain with his mother the longest. Sven had broken tradition and demanded to go to sea when he was just a boy of seven. That still shocked Kirsty...and told her all she needed to know about the man. But Bjorn had been thirteen before he went with his father, uncles and brothers to sea...and sixteen before he joined them full-time.

He winked at her before turning back to listen to something his mother was saying. If Sven's eyes were piercingly blue like the skies on a clear day, then Bjorn's were a deep Kelly green, like the grass. It was another thing he shared with his mother. As was a keen intelligence and love of learning. All of her 'husbands' were smart men, she knew this. But Bjorn had a depth of intelligence that enthralled and captivated her.

She blushed as she remembered their first night together...well, their only really. She had been determined that this time she was not going to be 'used' by the brothers. That she was going to be the one in charge. That she would 'show them.' If they wanted to 'play' then it would be on her terms. She had showered, shaved and emptied their whole 'toy box' onto the bed.

He had come in...his almost white blond hair darkened from the shower still. He had brought a tray of food and bottle of wine. He sat it down on the table and proceeded without a word to pick up all the toys and place them back in the trunk, which sat at the foot of the bed. He had thrown her his shirt and told her to get dressed. That she would not go naked to any other first date.

What a first date it had been too. Over dinner, they had talked...and talked...and talked. About anything, everything and nothing. If Sven never laughed, then 'baby' brother did so too easily perhaps. While the man might look like Thor, the hot Hollywood version, she got the impression he had the soul of Loki. His easy joking manner a mere cover for darkness that scared even him.

Not that you could tell that now as he talked with his mother. There was nothing 'baby' about this man. Not only was he the largest and most imposing of the three brothers with a mind that belonged more at Cambridge or Oxford than fishing the seas, but the way he could command her body and soul was... She was certain there must be words for it, but she could not think of them at the moment. Hell, just the man's 'kisses' stole your breath away.

She took another sip of the water as she stared across the rim of the glass at the man, who frightened and intrigued her the most. Mikael. The middle brother was unlike either of the other two. His dark blond hair could almost be considered brown. And he hid what she suspected was a face as handsome as baby brother's behind a beard.

Hiding was what this man did best. Pain mostly...hiding behind it, hiding from it, hell, even hiding from the family that wanted to help. He was certainly hiding from her. She thought of that first night with this man. After her coffee with Sven, he had taken her back to their boat, Ægir's Captive. The brief tour had ended in his cabin, where things got out of control...fast. She still was not totally sure how or why.

But she had woken hours later at sea...alone with the three of them. Bjorn had made dinner and they all sat down to eat it in silence around the table in Sven's cabin. After a bit, fearing the worst...rape, slavery, murder, she had worked up the nerve to ask what they intended to do with her. Their response had floored her...she would be their wife. Their...plural.

They had even graciously given her the choice of which brother would share the cabin and her bed that night. She had seen the reluctance, that hiding, in Mikael's face and mistakenly thought she could reason with him, convince him to help her escape. It had not worked that way though. While he remained fully clothed, took no pleasure himself, he had shown her that her body could be turned against her as he first repeatedly pushed her to the very edge of an orgasm and then drew back, denying her release. Until he had tired of that game and shoved her over the edge into oblivion.

She looked across the large open plan living area where the little girl was lining up her dolls near the fire place. The child, this man's daughter, explained so very much about him, about the pain that he hid and was in turn hiding behind. He was as much locked inside his own world and mind as was his daughter, whom even after only a few hours, Kirsty very much suspected was like the hundreds of autistic children she had worked with as an Occupational Therapist.

Had...had worked with. Those words still came so fucking hard to her. Even after that 'facts of life' talk, after Petrine had fully given her the choice to return to her job...her old way of life. She felt the tears stinging her eyes. She fully understood how Mikael must feel at times. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. While she had turned down Petrine's offer, had decided as Bjorn pleaded with her to give them a chance, a real chance, still her mind and her heart battled at moments like this.

"Are you finished, dear?" said the kind voice from just over her shoulder. She had been so caught up in her dark musings that she had not even noticed that Petrine had finished speaking with her youngest son and left her chair.

She fought back tears as she forced herself to look up into the woman's face. She could not though manage to force words past that lump in her throat. All she could do was a simple nod as the older woman smiled sympathetically and took the plate from her. "You did not eat much. I know our food is a bit different from what you are used."

Kirsty shook her head again, "No, it was lovely. Thank you. I am just not very hungry."

The woman placed a hand upon her shoulder and squeezed softly. The move said exactly what the woman had intended it to... 'I understand.' And Kirsty knew that this woman did. She, herself, had once been a captive bride. Taken by four brothers as she hitchhiked across Europe, a free thinking, feminist of the early seventies. But she had come to love them all, accept and even make peace with this unusual way of life. Kirsty just hoped that she had made the right choice today...that she too could do the same.

"Boys, I did not have the time to show your wife, her room before dinner. You do it while Olaf and I clean up," Kirsty still could not get used to the way this woman called them...boys. For certain they were her sons. But could she not see that these men were anything but? Perhaps she would not understand until... She frowned and tried once more to push that thought aside.

Sven was the first to speak, "Her room? Mama, you cannot mean..."

The woman held up her hand, "Of course, I do. That room belongs to the bride not the mother. You know that."

He shook his head once more, "She can have the guest room. I am sure that Kirsty would not want you to give up your room," he replied looking at her.

Kirsty nodded and looked up at the woman, who had been nothing but kind to her. "No, Petrine, Sven is right. I could not take your room."

The woman laughed and the years fell away. Kirsty caught a glimpse of the woman that once must have been just as reluctant, as confused and uncertain as she was. "No, sweetie, that bed is too big and lonely for an old woman and her ghosts." Her face softened just a bit and she smiled across the room at the only one of her husband's remaining, "I won't hear any more of this. Besides Olaf has invited me to share his cabin."

Sven frowned at the man across the table as he said something to him, which once more was lost in the translation. Kirsty was determined to learn both Swedish and Finnish...and fast. This was not fair. She caught Bjorn's smiling face as he winked at her. Obviously, he did not share his brother's reluctance. Then again he never had. It was he, who had pushed and prodded both Sven and Mikael into taking a bride in the old way.

Mikael. She looked across the table, where he sat stiffly. Head down as he too pushed food around a practically full plate. She could not help but wonder how this announcement must feel to him. Had Petrine given up her room before...when he brought home his first wife? His legal and monogamous one...that voice of doubt whispered in her mind. Was this whole thing a bitter reminder of that failed relationship? Of the woman that he loved who had left not just him, but their child behind?

As if he sensed her gaze, he looked up. His grey eyes were as cold as storm clouds that they reminded her of. He held her gaze, but it was his mother to whom he spoke, "I need to give Monika her bath and put her to bed, Mama. I am sure that Sven and Bjorn can manage without me."

Kirsty felt those tears stinging her eyes again at this man's clear rejection. Why should it matter? Bjorn made it abundantly clear that she was his choice. Even though she still had trouble believing that a man, who looked like him, would ever give someone like her a second glance. When they were together, when he looked at her that way, she had no doubts that he meant.

And Sven, though he did not, might not ever, reveal as much of himself as 'baby' brother, when she looked into his eyes as he tied her with his rope, commanded her obedience, as he buried himself deep inside of her, she knew. This man too wanted her...needed her.

So with two men, two amazing lovers, what did a girl have to complain about? Two husbands were after all...twice the average...well, at once anyway. So what did it matter if Mikael hid from her? She swallowed her pain as that other tiny voice, the one that she had spent a lifetime ignoring, the one that had brought her to this place, replied, 'Because even if he does not want you, he needs you...even more than his daughter does.'

It was Kirsty that wanted to hide once more from the truth of those words and others that Petrine had shared with her while they talked this afternoon. Words of her being the one truly in control and how important it was that she use that control wisely and fairly. This man might not be easy to love like Bjorn...she might not feel the same need that she did with Sven...but he was her husband just as much. And that was a scary thought.

She was not certain what she would or could have said as she dropped his gaze before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. But she did not have to worry about it as Petrine reached across the table and took his plate too, "Your father and I can manage our grand-daughter for one more night. Your wife needs you right now more than your child."

Kirsty saw the storm clouds darken even more in those eyes, feared the thunder and lightning that was to burst. But once more it was Olaf, who said something...damn them all. Mikael was not pleased, his face was just as tight, but he nodded and pushed back his chair to stand.

It was not just Mikael though. Suddenly they all seemed to retreat...back into their own thoughts, concerns...hopes. The room froze. Silence reigned. She was not sure for how long they all stood there, just staring at one another. She would not fathom a guess at what was in each of their minds. For her, it was the finality of it. Her room. Her husbands. And all that went with that which kept her silently frozen to that spot next to her chair.