The Norseman Ch 07

It was late the next day when Cwen journeyed to the house of her brother-in-law. She rode alone on horseback, as the light was fading, snow falling softly upon her and upon the enormous trees, almost black in the twilight. Alone in this silent landscape, darkness beginning to surround her, she felt afraid. A brave woman, well used to this harsh landscape and the cry of the wild beast that inhabited it, she was not afraid of anything around her – she was afraid of what lay ahead.

She wept in anger and frustration – acknowledging her fears and hating herself for them. In thirty years she had never bowed to another man nor woman – yet here she was, being controlled by her husband and fearing the whore who had stolen his heart.

She had tried every way she knew to win her husband's favour back, but he was resolute and had stubbornly refused her. He barely spoke to her, he turned from her body and when she had woken him that morning with her mouth around his sleeping cock he had thrust her away violently. Sex, her only bargaining tool, had become worthless, so it was with a heavy heart and frustrated body she saw her only option was to return Emma to their home.

*

When Stefan's house loomed out of the darkness before her she dismounted, shook the snow from her cloak, and stepped up to the door. She heard them before she reached it. In the gloom and silence of the snowy night she could hear the animal sounds of sex – guttural, grunting sounds made in his throat mingled in the air with breathy mewling cries and in spite of herself Cwen felt the immediate trickle of moisture between her legs.

She entered the house unheard and unseen, following the sounds. She was drawn towards the bed chamber and stepped softly to the doorway, and in spite of her preparation she could barely believe the sight before her.

Emma was knelt on all fours on the low bed, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes tight shut. Stefan knelt behind her, his pelvis thrusting back and forth, banging against her soft, rounded rump, his naked body taut – every muscle building its own clawing tension as the thrusting pace quickened. He held Emma's hair, his hands woven deep within the soft brown curls, holding her head back as she pushed against him, desperate to feel him deeper within her.

Cwen could barely stand to see it – to see the beautiful, ripe softness of the woman's body, the hard lines and delicious tension in Stefan's face. She moved her hand against the front of her gown and pressed hard through the folds of fabric to feel her own desire; her pussy ached to join them, juices now running freely as a mark of her desperation. The small movement rustled her cloak and Stefan looked up to see her for the first time.

If he was shocked it didn't register and he did not break his stride, still pistoning back and forth, each thrust shaking her body, rocking her fine, rounded breasts and increasing the urgency of her cries.

"Welcome Cwen!" his voice was husky and he sounded almost breathless. "Glad you could drop by. Perhaps you can assist me?" He smiled at her look of surprise. "Pass me that candle" he indicated with a jerk of his head "that's right. Pick one you think she might like."

Unsure exactly what he might mean she picked a long, fat candle from a small pile near the door and handed it to him dumbly.

"Here darling," he spoke this to Emma "A gift for you"

Cwen watched the candle disappear between them, and heard the deep, lusty growl Emma made. She watched amazed as Emma's body began to quake as orgasm neared. Her cries filled the room, a great noise coming from her long, white throat in waves that matched her waves of ecstasy. Her body bucked beneath his, and he reached around to cup her swaying breasts in his large hands.

Stefan took one almighty push forward against her, pressing deep inside her as his own climax began. Watching him he seemed transformed – Cwen saw her brother-in-law, a man whom she had always seen as quiet, studious, and civilised – but tonight he looked like a beast.

He bared his teeth and thrust his head back, his body wracked with tension. He grunted hard into the dark room and she fancied she could feel the pulsing, surging rush of his seed filling Emma.

Cwen was open mouthed in shock and lust, she wanted to feel him between her own legs, feel the sensation of complete fulfilment she could see on both faces at that moment. Emma looked up at her with a lewd expression of satisfaction and triumph, and Stefan smiled comfortably, as though it were entirely normal to welcome ones relatives in this way.

Cwen found her voice finally, wanting to break the potent silence. "I just called...called to make you an invitation. Both of you." She cleared her throat. "Will you join us for Hökunótt? There will be feasting and...merriment." She felt flustered and anxious, embarrassed by their calm response.

"A gracious invitation Cwen." Stefan smiled handsomely, his chest still heaving from recent exertion. "We will indeed join you, and I am sure a fine time will be had by all."

Stefan, his shaft now soft, moved away from Emma and for the first time Cwen could see the full truth of what she had witnessed. Unable to help herself she gazed between Emma's legs to see her anus open wide, stretched by Stefan's pounding and retaining its new shape. As she watched it slowly began to close and as it did so a stream of foaming white began to pour from it. The seed, escaping from within her forbidden depths, ran freely down the contours of her open pussy, and Cwen could see something nestling between the folds, coated in shining juices – the candle.

She was mesmerised by her own imaginings – her mind filled with images of a hard shaft buried in her own backside, and harder still, the unyielding candle buried deep in her pussy. She was captured by the momentary desire to taste the trail of cum which was now dripping from Emma onto the bed.

Stefan stepped again towards his lover, and pressing one firm hand against her back he reached down between her legs with the other. In a swift movement which brought forth another lusty cry from Emma he retrieved the nestling candle. He stepped forward, his brazen nakedness stunning in the half light of the room.

"A gift for your trouble, my lady." His smile was dark and knowing. "For whilst my good brother pines for Emma this may be of use to you." He held out his hand and placed the candle in Cwen's palm.

She felt the sensation of the damp, slippery object against her hand, still warm and slightly softened by being inside Emma's hot and hidden depths. Cwen wasn't certain whether it was shock at what she had witnessed, or a fear that she may follow her desires, but she knew she could not risk another moment in the stifling room, and, clutching the candle to her chest Cwen turned on her heel and ran from the house.

She felt glad of the darkness to hide her flushed skin, and glad of the cool snow against her as her body burned with its own heat. She fell to her knees, and thinking about nothing but the building need within her, she took the candle deep beneath her gown.

She quickly searched out her aching, streaming pussy and felt the candle slip easily between her nether lips to find its mark. The thought of the candle, smeared with Emma's heady, scented liquors, and Stefan's thick, creamy seed was enough to bring her to the edge, without a thought to the feel of it buried within her.

She rocked back and forth against the snow, the wind catching her cries, feeling the candle slip easily within her. Thinking once again of the sight of Emma's ravaged holes she reached around behind herself and slipped the tip of her middle finger into her tight rosebud.

With one final cry she felt the breaking climax deep in her belly. Her walls clasped at the candle, desperate to make it the living flesh she craved, and she felt the pulse of tightening muscles milking the seed that would never come.

As the tension lifted, the cold and the isolation hit her suddenly. She could barely lift herself to her feet, exhausted and weak from desire and exertion. She slipped the candle from inside her and flung it far into the trees, angry to be relying on a false cock, whilst her husband kept his for that whore.

Furiously wiping tears from her cheeks she mounted her horse, feeling its hard back press against her sensitive and battered places. Emma had robbed her now of her husband, her dignity and her control over her desire. She knew she had no choice but to welcome her back the very next night, but as she rode home hard between the snow covered firs she began to search the darkest parts of her soul for a suitable means of revenge.