The Norseman

Emma looked up before there was even a sound, as if something had told her what was coming. She watched the sea for some moments, looking out into the mist. She heard the oars cut the water and then she saw the ship loom out of the moist air, moving with speed towards the shore. She didn't wait any longer – knowing what the sight of a Longship heralded she was off, running across the sands and shouting for the others, the winds catching her voice and flinging it back to sea. The villagers heard her, even as she gasped to catch her breath and together they began to try to hide the livestock and make the more vulnerable of the homestead safe. It seemed no time at all before they began to hear the guttural shouts in the unfamiliar tongue. Emma had never seen the Norsemen herself, but travellers told tales that woke her from her sleep for days after their telling.

Shouts outside and the sound of frightened animals signalled their arrival in the small hamlet, and when men entered her home she felt that they would hear her body shaking and her heart hammering from her hiding place amongst the roof beams. They kicked at her sparse furnishings, and inspected the few objects she owned with such callousness she felt she could weep, but when they took the burning log from the fire and held it to the roof she knew she had little choice, either burn here as her home burned, or die as she attempted an escape.

As the roof began to smoulder she swung down from the rafters, hoping for the element of surprise and made almost to the door before arms captured her and pulled her back into the dwelling. Flung roughly down she found herself looking up towards two enormous, hulking men. They spoke together and she needed no knowledge of their mother tongue to recognise the topic of their conversation. She recognised the look in their eyes and willed herself to be wrong.

The one who stood furthest away stepped closer, pushing the other to one side, giving the impression of higher status, as the other evidently dared not question whose right it was to go first. He bent down and lifted her easily from the floor, taking her across to the rough, unmade bed and lowering her down. She protested with words they didn't recognise, and the man held her wrists firmly above her head. He spoke to her in his own tongue and she could not make sense of the words, but the harsh language sounded softer, an attempt at reassurance, but she read a hunger in his eyes that she could recognise, and had felt herself, many times. He pulled at the ties of her dress and his strong fingers released her on the second tug, freeing her breasts, and exposing her flat, soft belly. He caressed her, feeling the need build in him, appreciating the softness of her body and looking into her eyes which held his with surprising courage.

Gellir felt something for this woman – an identification with her. He could see a passion and spirit that he could admire, and all the fierce, real beauty of a hard working woman. He touched her neck, and stroked her cheek, feeling her still beneath his touch, and as he moved his hand over her breast he felt her breathing quicken with something other than fear. Her nipples hardened between his fingers and he felt the flutter of her terrified heart he felt a swell of passion. He felt the ache in his groin, the tightening of muscles and the swell of his penis.

Emma felt trapped and uncertain; she had been prepared to fight, in spite of the odds, to protect her modesty, but now she was lying here exposed to two strangers and had no desire to hide herself. She had been terrified, but this enormous man, with his long hair and harsh words, softly spoken, was touching her with his rough hands and bringing heat to her cheeks and a tingle deep within her body. The man was pulling at her skirts and as he lifted them she felt cold air against her thighs, closed her eyes and turned her head. This was not the first time a man had touched her, she had been careful, and hoped the villagers hadn't known, but nevertheless, she had lain down with several men in this same bed.

As Gellir lifted her skirts and stroked the length of her legs he worked his way through the layers of fabric toward her precious place. A small noise escaping from his throat he touched the soft downy hair between her legs and, slipping a finger in between the folds he found, to his surprise, that she was wet. She reopened her eyes and met his gaze, and for a moment they shared the secret of her obvious desire, she looked ashamed, but he felt emboldened. He didn't have much stomach for molesting women, but it excited him that this beautiful creature was wanting him, as he wanted her.

As she watched he released himself from his trousers and she caught sight of his huge penis, broad and long, hanging from the front of his breeches. He seemed to think for a moment then move forward, towards her face. He held the tip of his engorged penis so close to her mouth that she could be in no way fooled about what he wanted, but she had never done this before and hesitated. He placed his hand gently on the back of her head and the hot red tip touched her lips. Tentatively she licked with her tongue, tasting the saltiness of it. As she licked again she became accustomed to the taste and as he nudged closer she let the tip of him enter her mouth. He groaned and his fingers tightened into her hair as she began slowly to suck, feeling the hot flesh fill her mouth and feeling the passion build in him she began to feel the wetness grow between her legs, and an aching sensation deep in the pit of her belly.

As if sensing her growing need Gellir pulled away from her mouth - for seeing her lips parted around him like that he had feared he would explode. He had been travelling for a long time and had not had the pleasure of a woman's body throughout their journey; he did not want to waste himself in her beautiful mouth. Repositioning himself he placed his penis at her entrance, aware again of her hot wetness, and he began to rock forwards, gently at first but building in intensity, forcing apart her walls to gain entry. He knew he was a big man and he wanted to take care but as desperation began to build he could no longer wait for her to accommodate him and he began to piston back and forth inside her, powering into her tight tunnel with long hard strokes.

Emma felt him fill her entirely, she hadn't believed she could make room for him inside and she had felt at first like she was being stretched as wide as she could go, but as he built up speed she forgot any discomfort and felt the delicious friction build in her, felt his heavily veined shaft pounding into her, and his large testicles banging against her, slapping loudly against her behind. Before she could stop herself she was shouting, cries which filled her home and gave away her passion.

As she cried out, feeling the tension built to an aching crescendo deep inside her Gellir grunted and shuddered and she felt the hot, thick seed fill her – her muscles gripping his penis and the seed dripping out her, down her behind and onto the bed.

As her breathing quietened she covered her face with her hands, feeling her cheeks burn with passion and shame. Gellir moved her hands gently aside and she felt him withdraw from her. The other man came forward, releasing himself in readiness but he jumped back suddenly when Gellir spoke. She had no idea what had been said, but the other man re-sheathed his penis and glared at her with an evil look borne of pure frustration.

Gellir lifted her easily from her bed and strode out into the daylight. She could see the evidence of the sacking of her village and she cried out to see the destruction of her home. Gellir lifted her onto a cart, alongside an assortment of animals and the spoils of their pillaging; he shouted at some unseen others and the cart began to move. She tried in vain to cover herself where her clothes were still awry and gazed in horror at the smouldering destruction that had been her home.