Vikings: Lagertha Part 1
By Imorol
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story for adult entertainment purposes.
Now, to the story...
Sounds of laughing and carousing filled the Great Hall of Kattegat. Down the sides of the room, tables were full of men and women drinking and feasting. Horns clashed together in an atmosphere of comradely friendship, beer sloshing onto the floorboards. Singing echoed across the smoky hall, skalds recounting tales of heroic deeds as drums beat in accompaniment.
Further in, the fire pit burned brightly, a hog roasting on the spit. Fatty drops hissed as they fell to the flames. Around the hearth several jarls warmed themselves in its glow, mead flowing freely as they laughed and joked with one another. Occasionally they would turn their gaze to the throne on its raised platform, where the Queen of Kattegat sat.
Flanked by two of her shield-maidens, Lagertha watched over the celebration with a vigilant eye. In her hand a barely touched cup of wine. With honey-coloured hair and warm porcelain skin, she was a woman of renowned beauty. Even as the wife of a lowly farmer, men had desired to share her bed. Their desires had only grown as her beauty became matched by her reputation, her skills as a warrior almost legendary. And now she was Queen.
Once the wife of the great Ragnar Lothbrok, the farmer who became one of the most famed of Viking warriors, she had borne him a son, Bjorn Ironside. A giant of a man, Bjorn was already a mighty warrior, and many flocked to his banner and joined his far-reaching raids. Returning to Norway, he enriched his mother's kingdom.
But tonight's feasting was in her honour alone. Surrounding kingdoms were envious of Kattegat's wealth, but hesitated to test their warriors against its strength. Each of the gathered jarls coveted her throne, but could not move against Lagertha for fear of reprisals from the others. Any attack would leave the newly won prize vulnerable to siege by one of the other jarls. Instead, they had decided that marrying Lagertha would gain them what they desired without wasteful bloodshed. She had but to choose.
A cunning stateswoman, Lagertha was well aware of her precarious position. Against any one of the other kingdoms, Kattegat would stand strong. But should any unite, her kingdom would be taken from her, their combined warriors able to fend off retaliation. No stranger to the schemes of men who desired her, the queen knew her only real hope was to marry one of the competing jarls and secure her own union. The golden bejewelled circlet she wore was a mighty weight to bear.
The celebrations had been called to buy time for Lagertha to make her choice. Sitting on her throne at the end of the Great Hall, she studied the jarls. All were powerful men, great warriors in their own right. Strong muscles bunched as they slapped each other, rich laughter roaring from them as they drank and ate...and ogled her.
A woman of nature, stunningly beautiful, Lagertha was no blushing virgin. She enjoyed sex and it would be a factor in her final decision as any man who married her would take to her bed.
And I will want my satisfaction just as they will demand theirs
, she thought.
As she sat on her throne, she felt the lingering looks of the gathered jarls, their eyes leering at her body, imagining what it looked like beneath her embroidered red gown. Through years of training and successful combat, the former shield-maiden was strong, her body lithe. Legs long and shapely, her hips a good size for fighting or fucking. Her breasts were big, firm and stood proud.
Every man gathered here, jarl and commoner alike would seek to take me right now
.
Thoughts of being taken, a man between her legs and thrusting deep, filled Lagertha's mind.
It's been too long since I last felt a man inside me
, she thought. Heat grew in her loins, her womanhood awakening to her fantasies. Under the gaze of the men, she felt moisture gathering, slicking the lips of her pussy. Inside her red gown her nipples hardened. With each breath her chest rose and fell, her hard nubs brushing against the cloth.
Meeting the hungry looks of the jarls, she seductively locked eyes with each one. In turn, their grinning faces and the twitches between their legs promised to give her what she needed. But unable to choose one, the queen's gaze quickly moved to the rest of the Great Hall. Movement in the back by the thick double doors caught her eye.
Two large dogs, Great Danes, were mating with no care for the rowdy revellers. Lagertha couldn't tear her eyes from the sight. Their animalistic mating excited her in its bestial rutting. With parted lips and blazing eyes, she watched as the male bred his bitch. Beneath her the heat grew in her crotch, nectar escaping her pussy to wet her inner thighs. Her nipples ached as her chest rose and fell.
A queen, jealous of a bitch in heat
, she thought, feeling her jealous need.
Suddenly Lagertha stood up from her throne. 'Excuse me my lords,' she said to the jarls. 'I require rest, but will return soon enough. Please, stay and enjoy the hospitality of my people.' Turning to her shield-maidens she said, 'Remain. Watch over them. I do not wish to be disturbed. And if they do get out of control...' her voice trailed off, fingers tapping the hilt the sword at her waist. With a smile, she walked to the back of the Great Hall and into her personal chambers.
Entering her chambers she was met by the sight of a man, average height, dark hair reaching to his broad-shoulders. Wearing a ragged brown tunic belted with rope, he was clearly a slave. In his hand was an iron poker which he was using to stir the coals blazing in a bronze dish. Turning, he saw the queen and bowed his head.
'My Queen, I was instructed to keep your chambers warm,' he said in a Germanic accent.
'Continue,' she said imperiously as she crossed to her fur-covered bed.
Sitting on the soft warm pelts, her mind continued to think of the two beasts mating. A frustrated fire burned within her loins, her needs rising, consuming her. Lagertha wanted sex. She wanted to be fucked, to have a man thrusting into her and bring her to climax.