"Inga - vent!"
There was something in the insistence of his tone that made her wait, despite not understanding his language.
Leif quickly grabbed her hands and tied them behind her back; they nestled nicely in the small of her back, just over her curvaceous, inviting, bum.
He kissed her on the back of the neck.
"Kirken!" he said to her and his band of men; she understood she was to lead them there. She was reluctant to do so, reluctant to endanger her village, but with little choice at the point of a Viking sword, and under the spell of this tall and powerful warrior.
After a brief walk they arrived at a mound overlooking the small, stone-built Saxon church. They all knew the women and children had sought sanctuary here, but Leif was no murderer. He wanted a quick and easy prize, or two...the second and best prize being this beautiful young wench.
He held her waist, she felt his muscular presence and hot, meady breath on her neck, sensed his desire, and her own. Dear God, how would this end?
Leif appraised the situation. He ordered a band of ten men to evacuate the church, frighten the weak or young or female into running away, and kill any man who dared to resist.
He and Inga watched from the hill, until his men signalled for them.
They entered the broken wooden door, with the sounds of the fleeing and defeated around them. Three dead Saxons lay on the ground, two soldiers and a priest, the latter clutching his Bible and a gold, jewel encrusted crucifix. His eyes stared lifelessly upwards, and his blood seeped onto the cold, stone floor.
Inga gasped and choked, turned to bury her face in the chest of this dangerous stranger. She sought comfort and relief from the terror around her.
Leif responded by holding her and stroking her long, red hair. He was surprised to feel his blood pumping into his cock, to feel desire at a time like this was unexpected, but pleasant indeed.
He ordered his men to take the most valuable treasure as quickly as possible, and return to the boat. He would deal with the woman...
His men looked at him with a mixture of greed and envy, but hurried about their task and soon left the two of them alone.
Leif strode back and forth before the primitive alter, took the crucifix from the priest and raised it heavenwards.
He sought the approval of Odin and his countless lost brethren in Valhalla.
He felt a rage and a lust that was overpowering; his final reward was to come now, before he had to return this beauty to her kind.
