The Viking's Highland Prize (Closed: prettyserpentine & cgraven)

[prettyserpentine]

It was late in the year, harvest season, and all the villagers had been toiling in the fields for weeks bringing in the crops. There was plenty of wheat, vegetables, corn, and a lot of the men had gone out and brought back deer, boar and rabbits which now hung in the smoking houses. The women had made butter, some cheeses, and everyone was convinced it was going to be a plentiful harvest, more than enough to get them all through the long winter, which was what they had been praying for, as many of the village had succumbed during the last winter to illness and death.

Such was the lot of the only of the villager's first generation of daughters. Her name was Cora, and she had lost both of her parents in the past winter's plague. She was very fierce, with a head full of fire-red curls, and the coolest blue eyes. She had a hot temper, and spent more time out hunting with the men than she did in cooking and baking with the mothers and crones. She was also the only daughter that had been born in the village in many years. The sons all grew and became warriors, and many had offered Cora their kills and their livelihoods in exchange for her as their wife, but she refused them all.

Cora spent most of her time up in the highlands, teaching herself how to shoot with bows, skin, live off the land. She enjoyed the solitude, climbing up the mountainous peaks, climbing trees, she was her father's daughter. But this year she had made sure to help the women, most of them were aged, although they barely spoke to her and were mostly toothless old hags she couldn't be bothered with. But for her mother's sake she felt like she should attempt and be at least a little more womanly.

She dressed in old leather and fur boots, with a heavy brown dress over them which was made of wool and bound at the wrists. It was a little too tight for her, but she had never been one to sew. Over that she wore a shawl of her family tartan which she kept with her always, a little sprig of heather worn over her heart to remember her father.

"That's enough now Cora, you can wash up and take the herbs out for the fire," the oldest crone croaked. "And mind you make sure and put them in bags, else they'll fall all over the sticks."

Cora lifted the bundle of herbs and stuffed them into a flaxen sack. "There, it's done. Now, may I go out?"

The crone nodded.

Cora ran out of the house like the devil himself was on her heels, and when she got to the bonfire in the middle of the village, she handed the sack to the Elder. He took it and set it in the middle of the sticks before yelling for a torch. One of the other hunters brought one down, a tall, flaming beacon that smoked heavily up into the dimming sky. Cora loved the harvest celebration. There was plenty of mead, whiskey, good food, smoked pork and music. The Elder jammed the torch into the bonfire and the bag of herbs fizzed and sent up the scents of sage, thyme and other herbs. The children clapped as the flames licked up and started to crackle.

Autumn had truly come, and there was plenty to be had. The villagers started to sing and dance around the fire, the women brought out food and drink, the men roasted their kills on the fire that reached high into the sky.

 

[cgraven]

The season to go a Viking was passed it was the time of harvest in the far northern lands of the Norsemen. It was time to retire to the mead halls to tell stories of strange lands, of fierce battles, of riches gained and of women taken. It was time of story telling and laying in the last fruits of the year before the long cold northern wither blanketed all in a white mantel of snow and ice.

Those were the thoughts that Rolf Knutson knew must be on the minds of those that followed him. Oh they had all cheered when he had suggested that they like the Danes do more than just raid the rich lands to the south but actually take them, and concur the sheep that dwelt their, that called themselves men. Had not the Danes take large sections of Britain, that even their great King Alfred acknowledge were Devonshire, Danes Law. Had not the king of the Franks, paid tribute, granted large tracts of land to the Norsemen so that they now called the land Normandy? Why should they not have their own lands in the south? That was a month ago, before they had battled the autumnal gales of the North Seas. Of the twenty, ten had lost their appetite for conquest and had turned back, now victory was not assured. Yet Rolf Knutson was not a man to give up so easily, he was the Thane, he that would concur and rule.

A thick fog lay along the coast; the only sound was the rhythmic beat of the long ship’s oars as they crept along the unseen coast. Rolf Knutson stood in the eyes of the long ship his head cocked for the sound of waves breaking on the unseen shore. To his crew and to the remainders of those who followed him it appeared as if he was listening to the dragon whose head rose above the long ship’s bow. Softly his voice came strong and clear to the coxswain;

“Larboard,……..larboard………, steady”

Now the beating of the sea could be heard on the rock bound coast. With each pull of the oars it grew louder and louder until it was like the roar of a dragon. Rolf Knutson could hear the muttering and cursing of the men at the oars.

“Larboard………. Steady……. Steady”

Slowly the grey blanket of fog began to thin it wispy tendrils pulling apart, and before them was the rock bound coast came into view.

“Hard to Larboard……..Pull…..Pull for all your worth.”

The Dragon headed bow of his long ship sung hard to larboard, the coxswain straining to hold the steering oar over, his muscles like bands of iron as he fought tide and current. Then suddenly the ship was pointed towards the mouth of a river, a river that would lead Rolf Knutson and those that followed him into the heart of this rich land, a land they would take as their own.


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The first faint rays of dawn were just barely visible; the bells of the Monastery church were calling the monks to their morning devotions. The village lay in a deep slumber after the evening’s celebrations, the harvest bonfire now nothing more than smoldering embers. The peaceful stillness of the dawn was broken by the blood curdling screams of Rolf Knutson and his men. They attacked from three directions at once. They struck hard and fast. Villagers with clubs, billhooks, bow and arrow did not stand much chance against Norse Warriors with mail shirts of Iron, shield, ax, and steel swords. Villagers and Clooney Monks could not have known that this was not merely a Viking raid but a Viking invasion.

 

[prettyserpentine]

It wasn't the bells that woke Cora. She had been awakened earlier as the first rays of dawn had crept under her eyelids. She sat up as the sounds called over the Highlands, calling the monks to their morning prayers. She never even noticed that the ringing was shorter than every other morning. She climbed out of bed and pulled on her clothes, her wild, red curly hair spilling around her as she washed her face in the icy bucket of water outside the front door of her little shack. Her meagre little home was halfway up the side of the hill, a short walk from the village, but distant enough that the sound of bickering children didn't bother her.

Cora looked down towards the village, wondering about all the sore heads that would be rising from the pillows this morning, when she saw something she didn't expect. She recognised the dying smoke from the bonfire. But there was fresh smoke. And it wasn't a hearth fire, there was too much, and it came from different places in the village.

Her blood ran cold, and she pulled her tartan shawl around herself. Her legs started to tremble, and she took a deep breath, listening.

Screams.

She narrowed her eyes and looked to the coast. The sea was choppy, but she couldn't see much. It was a little foggy. She grabbed the fur skin that she kept over her bed, and her dagger, bow, and a couple of arrows, and she crept down to the village.

A raid! There was blood on the ground, the thatched roofs were on fire, and the screams of the dying, women, children, men, no exceptions. She moved around the back of one house, and came across the old crone she had been preparing herbs with. Cora knelt beside her. The woman was dying. She reached up to Cora, gripping her shawl, and she whispered: "Run." Blood bubbled from her mouth, and Cora took to her heels, running from the village, her red curls streaming behind her as she ran.

 

[cgraven]

Rolf Knutson and his men struck like bolts of lightening thrown from Odin’s own hand. They had struck without mercy but with a coldly calculate purpose, to terrorize, to make submission preferable to annihilation. It had been the way his fellow Norsemen had so easily concur so much of the kingdom of the Franks. Those men that could fought were put to the sword in battle or hung from the tree near the villages to be left as a grotesque warning to any who might think of resisting. The inhabitants had been efficiently and selectively winnowed during the battle, those to old to work or serve died by the sword, along with those that fought. Now those that had survived the onslaught of the crimson Norse tide of death and destruction were being herded like sheep towards the Abbey church. It was then that Rolf Knutson saw a flash of shimmering tawny copper hair, a well turned ankle as Cora broke cover taking to her heels, running from the village, her tawny copper curls streaming behind her as she ran.

“After her and bring the young hind to me uninjured and unmolested.”

Rolf shouted as he brought his hunting horn to his lips and the long low piercing blast shook the morning air proclaiming the hunt was on.

Several of the Norsemen took up the chase, Knutson’s Hounds, the others called them. Some were young and fleet of foot, others were wily and cunning hunters able to run their query to ground and now, as was normally the case, the query was a young maiden that Knutson had set his eyes on. They set off in pursuit of the redheaded beauty, those fleet of foot young warriors howling and baying like hounds on the hunt that had the sent of their query. The older wiser men swung wide to cut off the obvious avenues of escape. Yet Rolf Knutson knew that this gorgeous young hind was on her own ground and would know ever rook and cranny, every hidden path and byway, every fold of the land. He cast his eye to where he saw the young girl break cover, then cast his eye upon the ground that would have lain before her. He studied the ground and he thought about the girl herself. First thing that came to his mind was she was no fool for she had survived his lightening attack apparently unharmed and with her modesty intake. The second thought that struck him was she would need food and shelter and where would she find them in the devastated village in the aftermath of the chaos of his attack? The Monastery, it would offer her shelter, a place to hide, and it would be the last place anyone would think to look for her.

Rolf took off at a looping run, hoping to cut the young girl’s trail. If he found it he would find her. He zigzagged across the ground she would initially crossed. He found and traced the print of her foot with the tip of his finger committing it to memory, then turned towards the Monastery and the confusion of tracks and footprints from those fleeing the battle. Yet in that confusion he followed her. Rolf moved quickly but cautiously for the query he hunted would be desperate and more than willing to kill or maim him given the chance. Rolf stooped his finger tracing one track in those that lay before him and he knew it was hers. He had the trail, he had her sent, it would only be a matter of time till he or his hounds ran her to ground.

Slowly Rolf Knutson stood, his chain mail coat hung loose over his padded leather armor, his tawny ginger hair hidden beneath the mail coif and the close fitting steel helmet, the features of his face obscured by the flat nasal guard. There were no cheek or neck guards, nothing to hinder his peripheral vision. It was then he caught just the hint of a movement to his left, a flash of crimson hair.

“Run little hind run.”

He taunted her as he turned towards her.

“ Run girl for I love a chase!”

Rolf Knutson’s laughter rolled across the highland meadows and the answering call of his hounds could be heard in response to that laughter.

 

[prettyserpentine]

The noises of the chasing attackers were frightening, and Cora pulled her dagger from its place into her hand in case any of them got too close. Their leader was faster than she could have imagined, and she sped up, lifting her skirt to cover more ground. When she reached the monastery, she stopped, shocked at the carnage. They even killed the monks....

Cora shook her head. They would not capture her!! She ran up the staircase until she reached the battlements of the building. She nestled between them, spotting some of the running invaders. She drew her bow, exhaling slowly before letting an arrow fly, and another, and another. But they were meagre, wooden arrows, nothing capped with steel or poison. They glanced off the armor, save the ones that found pockets of flesh, but the a barriers kept coming. Their leader was a tracker, he was almost at the monastery, she could see his wiry hair underneath his ugly cap.

It had started to rain. Not the pleasant, light summer rain, but the heavy, assaulting raindrops she used to love. She couldn't shoot in this weather, but she was pleased that the invaders were now covered in mud. At least it covered up the spilled blood of her kin.

Frantically, she looked around. Coming to the rooftop was a fruitless plan, it had left her nowhere to run to. She scrambled over the slates, teetering on the edge as Knutson reached the roof of the building. She turned, her wild eyes staring at him from the edge of the roof, her bow slung carelessly over her back, her dagger drawn and held tightly in her hand. Her hair billowed behind her, along with her tartan cloak, as the rain beat down on her, soaking her wild red hair, darkening her clothes, making them heavy and sluggish.

"If you come any closer to me..." She looked down. The drop was too high, if she jumped she would die of a broken back. She licked her lips, her dagger still drawn at him. Her eyes lighted on the pine trees that grew close to the monastery, scraping their windows in the storm. If she got a decent run, perhaps she could jump far enough into their branches. Knutson was edging ever closer. Cora glared at him, spitting in his direction before taking off running towards the trees.

The rain had made the slates on the roof slick, and greasy, and as Cora reached to hoist her skirt to aid her running, the leather of her boots slid on the slates. She stumbled to her knees, cracking them off the slate and tumbling sideways, and off the roof. She screamed as the rain pelted down her bow falling and breaking on the ground below, as her white hands clung to the stone.

What options did she have now? She looked up, at the leering form of the invader, and she decided. As he reached down for her, she pushed away from the stone, favouring death instead of a life as a captive.

But it was too late! Rolf Knutson had her by her flaming red hair, kicking and screaming, dangling over the edge of the roof, dangling so she could see her homeland burn.

 

[cgraven]

Such spirit, such fire blazing in her stunning blue eyes, a fire to match the flaming color of her hair. Rolf saw the calm way in which this young maiden had drawn her bow and let fly her arrow, not once but at least three times before the driving rain made her bow string slack and useless. Then the young hind was off again climbing every higher until she had no place left to flee as she tittered on the edge of the Monastery’s roof. She was fearless her little dagger griped tightly in her delicate hand ready to fend him off, ready to protect her honor and virtue no matter what the cost. Knutson saw how her fire blue eyes shifted to the edge of the precipice on which she tittered, to his golden hazel unblinking eyes, then to the tall pines that grew so close to the edge of the roof. Slowly steadily Knutson had edged ever closer to his query.

The little wildcat glared at him, spitting in his direction before taking off running towards the trees, the only avenue of escape left open to her, a desperate act but one filled with spirit and daring. Rolf watched as Cora hoist her skirt to aid her running, then leather of her boots slid on the slates, her scream echoed off the stone walls of the Monastery, a note of lost and forlorn desperation bubbled from her moist ripe lips as she slid over the edge. That scream turned to one of pure agony as Rolf Knutson’s fingers entwined into Cora’s fiery tresses. She dangled by her hair in mid air.

“Be still girl or you will dashed on the rocks below and your dead god would damn you for taking your own life!”

Knutson lay flat on the edge of the roof his arm nearly wrenched from its socket as he had caught the girl by her hair.

“Be still girl! If need be I will drop you for I have no whist to die even if you do.”

By now some of Rolf’s faithful hounds had made it to the roof were their Thane struggled to keep his purchase on the edge of the slick slate roof and the prize that dangled from his injured arm. Slowly steadily a human chain was made to draw both Rolf and his prize to safety. He rubbed his arm and looked down on the calmly young beauty that now lay prostrated at his feet, her bow and dagger both lost in her nearly fatal fall.

“ Be careful our little hind is more wildcat than doe. Bind her wrists and make sure that her claws have been drawn and then bring her to me in the Abbots chambers.”

Cora was rudely dragged to her feet her wrists tightly bound before her as she stood in the center of a circle of six of Knutson’s hounds. Their hands roamed freely, intimately, over Cora’s gorgeous young body as they searched her for any hidden weapons. They drew the helm of Cora’s skirt up till it was bunched around her trim little waist their hands prying the girl’s thighs apart in their diligent search for hidden weapons. Next they ripped open the bodice of her dress baring her firm young breasts their eyes and hands. Hands that squeezing and mauling her breasts and nipples in their search. Finally satisfied that Cora had no hidden weapons they led the hapless young beauty from the battlements down into the Monastery, pass the abbey church across the inner court to the Abbots quarters.

Everywhere about Cora lay the slain. Already The bodies of the slain monks were being dragged out beyond the Monastery’s gates. Several huge bonfires had been built and the corpses of those that Cora had know all her life where thrown into the flames to be devoured by the fire. Then she was being forced up the steps that led to the cloister and the Abbots chambers. She soon found herself standing in what had been Abbot Sheeran’s rooms. Knutson’s faithful Hounds tied Cora between the bed post at the foot of the Abbot’s bed. Her hands stretched above her head so high nthat she was forced to stand on her tip toes. They turned on their heels and left the fiery young beauty to contemplate her fate, to anticipate what their Thane would do to her.

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While Cora was being searched Rolf Knutson had gone to the base of the wall from which the fiery little wildcat had dangled from. He quickly found her broken bow, but continued to search the ground for something else. It took Rolf ten minutes to find what he searched for stooping Rolf picked up the dagger that had slipped from Cora’s hand when she had slid over the roof’s edge. Standing, a wry smile bowing his lips, Rolf Knutson made his way to the Abbots Chambers where his fiery little prize would be waiting for him.


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The Door to Abbot Sheeran’s Chamber’s swung open and the Warrior that had caught Cora by her fiery tresses stood before her. Casually he removed the close fitting steel helmet and chain mail coif. His ginger hair was in wild disarray and matted to his sweat soaked head. Next he undid the buckle of his sword belt. Knutson’s movements had a slow deadly fluid grace to them, a dark sensuality that came from physical strength and one that was born to lead. Rolf laid aside his sword on to the table where his helmet and mail coif now rested. Next he shucked out of his mail shirt and padded jerkin armor, to stand before the bound young maiden not in animal skins like some barbarian from the far north but in a finely woven maroon woolen tunic decorated with intricately Norse runes of intertwined sliver and gold thread. Rolf had turned his back on the young bound beauty as he laid aside his chain mail shirt. When he tuned once more to face Cora he held her own dagger in his hand.

“ So what do they call you girl?”

He caressed Cora’s cheek with the flat of her dagger’s blade, he let her feel the cold unyielding caress of its iron against her soft warm supple cheek.

“Do you know what I am going to do to you girl?

Rolf let the flat of Cora’s dagger trace the line of her jaw, the sensual bow of her slender neck. Down, down the blade descended until the tip rested in the sweet scented valley that lay between her firm young breasts.


“Well!”

Rolf waited for the helpless young beauty’s answer to his questions.

 

[prettyserpentine]

She glared at him ferociously, spitting at him again. Her head still ached and her wrists chafed. Her head turned away, she pulled and strained at her bonds.

"I won't tell you my name you cur," she snarled, her chilling blue eyes glaring at him with hatred. "You burned my village, you killed my people, you are animals!” She screamed at him in rage, her pretty pale face red with the vehemence of her bile.

Cora snapped her teeth, leaning forward threateningly. But there was nowhere really she could go, standing there bound as he traced the knife over her body. She curved, pulling away from him as he lowered the knife to between the firm curves of her breasts. She gasped, baring her teeth.

"Get away from me, you wicked, evil bastard!" She shied away, leaning back onto the bed, straining at her arms tied to the posts. She screamed in frustration. "Let me out of here!"

As she pulled and struggled with the ropes, her body shifted, her breasts bouncing slightly as she pulled, making angry sounds and glaring at him, her fiery red curls hanging over her shoulders.

 

[cgraven]

"I won't tell you my name you cur,"

What fire, what spirit this redheaded beauty had. Even with no chance of escape she spit her defiance at him.

"You burned my village, you killed my people, you are animals!”

What a magnificent creature she was her teeth bared, snapping at him just like a cornered little wildcat with no way to escape her fate.

"Get away from me, you wicked, evil bastard!"

As Cora struggled against the bounds that held her captive and helpless, as she lounged and shied away from her tormentor as she screamed,

"Let me out of here!"

Her firm young breasts played peek-a-boo as they threatened to spill from the torn bodice of her dress. With a twist of his wrist Rolf turned the keen edge of Cora’s own dagger to the fine linen fabric of the girl’s dress. The soft sensual sound of the fabric being rent, parting under her dagger, was a dark seductive whisper, teasing and tormenting her.

“I am going to strip you my little wild cat!”

The tip of Cora’s dagger slipped under the belt of her dress, a slight tug and it feel to the floor at her feet. With slow, deliberate, and delft stroke Rolf cut the sleeves of Cora’s dress. He smiled as the rent garment slid from her shoulders to pool around her dainty ankles.

“ Not all your village has been put to the sword my proud little wildcat……”

Rolf paused as he let his words begin to sink in to the furious young beauty’s mind.

“……at least not yet. I fear that their fate rest in your hands my dear and how well you please me.”

His dark golden hazel eyes held Cora’s blazing azure blue eyes in his unblinking gaze. Then from the Monastery’s court yard the bound young beauty could hear the crying and whaling of the survivors. So others had been spared and it seemed that their fate now rested in her hands in what she did or did not do. There was no mistaking the sniveling cries of children in distress and of their mothers pleading for mercy.

“What is your name girl and do you know what I am going to do to you? I shall not ask you again before someone pays the price for your stubborn pride my little wildcat.”

 

[prettyserpentine]

Cora could hear the children, and her heart lurched. They wouldn't.... And the women, too... Her eyes took on a softer, more sympathetic, frightened hue as she looked back at him. She wasn't even abashed by her nakedness, standing there before him in her skin.

"It's Cora. My name is Cora. Let them go. You can kill me... Whatever, just don't hurt them. They're only children." Then her eyes took on their ferocity again. "And how am I to know what you are going to do to me? I'm naked, you can compare how much better I look than one of your men, or your old wife." She looked at him like he was some kind of lower beast.

"Cowards. Attacking a village of aged folk, women and children. My people have had few sons in many years." She pulled on her arms again, struggling. "And now you come, noble warriors from the frozen north, yes? So noble you capture women and babies, and let your men search for weapons in the secret places between a woman's thighs. Yes... So noble."

Her words were filled with pain and anger as she glared at him in hatred.

 

[cgraven]

For the first time Rolf’s little wildcat’s eyes took on a softer look and he could see in their clear azure depths the compassion she felt for those who were so in danger.


"It's Cora. My name is Cora. Let them go. You can kill me... Whatever, just don't hurt them. They're only children."

There was a quivering waiver in the young redheaded beauty’s voice as she offered her own young life in exchange for those even younger than herself. She lifted her head and met Knutson gaze and once more he saw the fire of her hatred in those clear azure blue depths.

"And how am I to know what you are going to do to me? I'm naked, you can compare how much better I look than one of your men, or your old wife……….. Cowards. Attacking a village of aged folk, women and children. My people have had few sons in many years.

The accusations flowed from Cora without thought of what the consequence might be for those she wished to save, or for herself for that matter. They came from a flood tide of frustration and grief.

"And now you come, noble warriors from the frozen north, yes? So noble you capture women and babies, and let your men search for weapons in the secret places between a woman's thighs. Yes... So noble."

“And why would I kill such a delightfully gorgeous creature as yourself Cora? Your body will provide me with hours of pleasure my little wildcat. As for the women of this village and your concern that they have too few sons I am sure my men will leave their bellies full of sons by the time they are through with them.”

As Knutson spoke he let his hands freely roam over the bound young beauty’s supple young body. Rolf hefted her firm young breasts in both his hands as he took the weight and feel of them. He rolled her pale pink rosebud nipples beneath the pads of his thumbs, to see just how responsive her supple young body was. He continued to tease and torment the girl’s breasts and nipples until they were hard little puckered pebbles crowning Cora’s dusky pink areolas.


“ I am going to take you as my concubine Cora. How much you or the barrens of this village suffer in the process will greatly depend on how much you fight your fate. Weather you come to me as a wildcat or a lamb makes no difference to me Cora, for in the end you will purr for me girl.”

There was a dark confidence to Knutson, his voice dark, sensual, with the note of powerful conviction to it.

“Which shall it be Cora……….. “

Rolf Knutson paused, his eyes had never left Cora’s as he spoke, as his hands explored her gorgeous young body with a frightenly tender intimacy. He had left no doubt that the village children’s fate was now linked to her and her own fate at the hands of these sea rovers.

“…………..How many lovers have you taken Cora? ”


Rolf study his highland prize as he waited her answer.

“Which shall it be wildcat or lamb?”

 

[prettyserpentine]

“And why would I kill such a delightfully gorgeous creature as yourself Cora? Your body will provide me with hours of pleasure my little wildcat."

As he spoke, his hands travelled over the curves of her body. She glared at him, grunting in rage as she tried to shy away from his hands. They were strong, coarse and firm against her skin. He knew his way around the body of a woman, and much as she hated him, the way he was touching her, she couldn't deny he knew how to arouse her. She turned her face away as her nipples budded against his hands, closing her eyes and biting her lip.

"Stop it..." She opened her eyes and they were hazy with want, she frowned, looking away and squeezing them closed again. She squirmed.

"As for the women of this village and your concern that they have too few sons I am sure my men will leave their bellies full of sons by the time they are through with them.”

Her eyes flew open again with the look of concern. She shook her head, her flame red curls bouncing around her shoulders and face. "No, please, don't do that, don't hurt them... They're innocents. You can take me..."

“ I am going to take you as my concubine Cora. How much you or the barrens of this village suffer in the process will greatly depend on how much you fight your fate. Weather you come to me as a wildcat or a lamb makes no difference to me Cora, for in the end you will purr for me girl.”

Cora shivered, as his hands continued to trail over her body. His voice had a deep, sultry tone to it. She bit her lip again and bucked away from his hands ferociously, her eyes full of fire as she struggled against the ropes. "Then let my fate be what it is, and let them go! You can take me off in the boat, you can kill me, you can make me..." She tensed her jaw. She hated him, and when she opened her eyes they were filled with rage and fire. "You can make me your concubine if you will only let them go. Unharmed and unmolested."

“…………..How many lovers have you taken Cora?”

She rolled her eyes, shifting away from his touch again. "I have known two men in my life, not that it is any of your...-" She bit her lip again, biting back her hate filled words.

“Which shall it be wildcat or lamb?”

"Let them go and you can have whatever you want." She smiled at him spitefully, her eyes full of red hot rage.

 

[cgraven]

"Stop it..."

Cora’s words were gasped almost as much as they were spoken and her fiery blue eyes were now smoldering with a carnal desire. Her eyes met Knutson’s just for a moment before the hapless young beauty squeezed them shut and turned her face from him in a futile effort to hide what her eyes might tell him. Yet her sweet supple young body had already betrayed Cora, even as she made her confession that she had taken but two lovers.

Cora bit her lip again and bucked away from his intimate caress ferociously, her eyes full of fire as she struggled against the ropes, struggled against her own treacherous body. Once more the redheaded beauty pleaded with Rolf.

"No, please, don't do that, don't hurt them... They're innocents. You can take me... Then let my fate be what it is, and let them go! You can take me off in the boat, you can kill me, you can make me....”

The young girl’s voice faltered as Cora stammered.

"You can make me your concubine if you will only let them go. Unharmed and unmolested……….. Let them go and you can have whatever you want."

Rolf caught the first faint musky scent of her growing arousal.

“ Why would I take you away in a boat Cora, my men and I are going no where. We are staying, we are taking this land as your ancestors took it from the Picks…….”


As he spoke Rolf’s hand slid down the sensual curves of the bound little beauty’s torso the tips of his fingers toyed with the girl’s tawny copper downy fleece. He toyed with her, teased her, tormented her and let the trapped beauty anticipate what was to come.


“……..and as the Picks took if form those that were here before them.”

The tip of Rolf’s finger slid along the rose pink folds of Cora’s labia. With each pass it cleaved deeper and deeper into her chaste young body until its tip caressed the hooded guardian of Cora’s chaste innocence. Slowly he rolled her pearl of passion beneath the tip of his finger as he slowly coaxed it from its hooded hiding place.

“I will concur this land as I will concur your gorgeous young body Cora!”


His lips were now just a breath away from hers, and as he spoke they softly caressed the bound young redhead’s. then his mouth crushed to hers in a darkly sensual kiss and his fingers slipped within her chaste young body slowly worming it way into her sliding back and forth, in and out, until the palm of Knutson’s hand pressed against her clit.

 

[prettyserpentine]

“ Why would I take you away in a boat Cora, my men and I are going no where. We are staying, we are taking this land as your ancestors took it from the Picts…….”

Cora struggled as his hand moved down over her belly, skirting across the hair covering her. She backed away from him, twisting and bending her body, her wrists pulling on the rope bonds. "Our ancestors, yes. Not us." She squirmed against his touch. "Please leave, don't do this..."

As she struggled aimlessly, she realised how serious his words were. If they stayed, her people would die, or worse, become slaves for these north men. She didn't want that, she didn't want to be some kind of toy for this beast and his cohorts. She moved back as he touched her, as his breath crept across her skin. His fingers stroked along her most secret place and she almost growled, disapprovingly, ass he felt them dip inside her. It hurt a little, the fear and anger had stopped her usual arousal, the usual wetness just wasn't damp enough for his invasion of her body.

“I will conquer this land as I will conquer your gorgeous young body Cora!”

She looked at him, a look of hatred on her face. "You may take this body, but you will forever be denied my mind, heart, soul!" Her words came out almost in a spit, until his mouth was on hers as she struggled against him, trying to pull her head away but failing as he held her there, his fingers inside her, moving. She cried out against him, keeping her lips firmly tight together, closing her thighs as. Much as she could and struggling continuously against him.

 

[cgraven]

"You may take this body, but you will forever be denied my mind, heart, soul!"

Rolf could see the hatred in the young beauty’s eyes, hear it in her words as she spat them at him. Rolf Knutson silenced the girl’s further protests with his kiss. Cora fought that kiss her moist ripe lips tightly pressed together, her head shying left and right as the bound copper haired beauty tried to wrench her lips from his. Her supple young body bucked and thrashed against Rolf intimate attack on her chaste young body. Finally Knutson broke that savage kiss leaving Cora gasping.

“Your thoughts are your own Cora, as who you give your heart to.”

The fingers of Rolf’s right hand cruelly entwined in the girl’s copper tresses. The tip of the dagger slip beneath the bounds that held her captive, a twist of his wrist and the bounds were severed each in their turn. Knutson dragged the naked young beauty to the window of the Abbots chamber that looked down over the courtyard of the Monastery

“So it is to be the wildcat Cora, your choice then.”

As Knutson spoke Cora could see those of her village that had survived the attack were gathered huddling together and cowering under the gaze of their captives. Most of the younger women had survived the onslaught and nearly all of the children. Several of the Norse warriors were separating the children from the women as if they were culling a flock of sheep separating the ewes from the lambs. The women were whaling in grief some with young barrens at their breast, others with wee ones clinging to their skirts.

“I did warn you Cora.”


Knutson dragged Cora back towards the bed where she had been bound. He threw the naked young beauty onto the bed and as she lay their prostrated before him Rolf demanded for the last time.

“ Sacrificial lamb for the wee barrens, or proud, virtuous, little wildcat Cora?”

 

[prettyserpentine]

“Your thoughts are your own Cora, as who you give your heart to.”

Cora's heart sank a little at that statement. She had no one to give her heart to. But her moment of emotion was short-lived as her captor entangled his hand in her bronze curls, raising the dagger and slicing through her bonds. He dragged her by the hair to the window of the chamber, and her hands rested on the sill as she looked outside the window.

“So it is to be the wildcat Cora, your choice then.”

As he spoke, she could see her people down in the courtyard, the north men separating them, pulling children away from their mothers. Cora frowned, glancing at her captor as he held her there, forcing her to look out of the window.

"Why are they separating them...?" Her eyes were filled with nervous concern.

The screams and cries of the young mothers and children caused goosebumps to run up and down her back. They were painstaking cries, heartache and terror in every moment of their wailing.

“I did warn you Cora.”

He pulled her away from the window and her scalp was starting to ache. She lifted her hands to her hair as he tossed her onto the bed. She landed softly on her side, rolling onto her back, propping herself up on her elbows. She breathed heavily, her breast rising and falling as she looked at him, the wildness behind her eyes replaced now by fear and trepidation.

“ Sacrificial lamb for the wee barrens, or proud, virtuous, little wildcat Cora?”

Cora licked her lips, her mouth was dry. She curled her legs up towards herself and scooted up to the head of the bed, away from him. She knew what he wanted, she knew what he would do to her. She was shaking, and when she spoke her voice came out small and frightened, that ferocity hiding for the moment.

"Please don't hurt them, let them go... I'll do what you want, I'll .... I'll do it... Just let them go, please..." She begged, her voice pitiful as she trembled there on the bed.

 

[cgraven]

Cora laid their in all her youthful naked perfection, Rolf Knutson tower over her, as she lay there on the bed her fate closing in on her. He watched as the tip of her pink little tongue nervously slid over her parched lips as she scooted up to the head of the bed, curled her legs up, shied away from him and as she excepted her fate.

"Please don't hurt them, let them go... I'll do what you want, I'll .... I'll do it... Just let them go, please..."

Gone were the fiery accusations, as Cora begged him to have mercy on her people, her soft angelic voice now carried a note of deep sadness and resignation to it.

As this young beauty pleaded with him Rolf Knutson did not answer her but simply slipped the deep maroon woolen tunic over his head to stand before the terrified young girl stripped to the waist and now wearing nothing but a loin cloth of dark blue wool. His chest was broad and covered with the livid scares of past battles and past wounds. His body will muscled that spoke of a fluid power. The bed sagged as it bore his weight as he came to her. His hands placed either side of Cora as his head lowered and once more his mouth closed over hers in a darkly sensual kiss.

The time had come for Cora to either embrace her fate or for her to fight till the bitter end. She will knew what the cost of her defiance may well be as the tip of Rolf’s tongue slid across the moist sensual bow of her lips as he sought entrance into the sweetness of her mouth.

 

[prettyserpentine]

As he took off his tunic, Cora could see he was the survivor of many skirmishes, many battles and he had plenty of war wounds and scars to prove it. He never said a word to her, just looked at her with those intense eyes. He was big, with a broad, muscular chest and as he moved towards her up the bed, Cora's heart thumped against her ribcage. He was getting ever closer, pulling her legs down so he could reach her face, flattening her on the bed beneath him as his hands rested on either side of her head.

She was shaking. "Please, I'm... I'm begging you..." Tears were threatening now but her pride was still intact. She held her legs firmly closed. "I'll cook for you, clean, just please...." Her voice faded to a whimper as his mouth closed over hers again, and she bit back a scream. He smelled of the sea, and try as she might, she couldn't move her head away from his kiss.

Her body shivered beneath him, his weight almost entirely upon her. The thoughts of her kinswomen and the children outside flitted into her mind, but his assault upon her body was prevalent. She squirmed underneath his weight, uttering protestations. As her mouth opened for breath, she felt his tongue against her lips, and then beginning the first invasion of her mouth. She whimpered, considering whether to fight him off. He was practically naked, save his loincloth. She could kick him, cripple him, and run.

Thoughts and plans raced through her mind, but she wasn't sure if she could live with the guilt of resigning her people to death. She tried to mutter "No," around his tongue, but he pressed on, kissing her heavily.

 

[cgraven]

"Please, I'm... I'm begging you....... I'll cook for you, clean, just please...."

His kiss silenced Cora’s whimpered little pleas.

Rolf could feel her supple young body shiver beneath him as she held her breath. He could feel her firm young breasts press to his chest as his bare skin came in to contact with hers. When Cora whimpered her moist rip lips parted as if to once more beg Rolf to have mercy on her and her people, his tongue slipped between her parted lips, slipped pass the even ridge of her white teeth and into the sweet depth of her chaste young moth.

Knutson let his kiss linger and deepen his fingers entwining with the hapless young beauty’s as he slowly stretched her hands above her head. His hips rolled to hers his groin rubbing across her Venus mound, his growing ardor for her pressing to Cora’s belly through his loin cross. His kiss was dark, passionate, and demanding. Demeaning her complete surrender to him, that kiss told the young beauty he would accept nothing less. Hat sinful, unholy kiss lingered until they shared but a single life giving breath. Slowly their lips parted his clinging to Cora’s until the last possible moment. His lips traced the line of the girl’s jaw with light sensual little kisses light as the caress of a butterfly’s wings. Those darkly seductive kisses floated down the sensual bow of Cora’s slender neck. Those sweet sensual kisses explored her firm young breast mingled with seductive little lover’s bites. The tip of his tongue lazily circled Cora’s dusky pink areolas until they were puffy little pillows crown by throbbing rosebud nipples. Rolf grasped a throbbing bud between his teeth and inhaled deeply drawing a cool stream of air across that feverous bud.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Cora felt like his kiss would suck the marrow from her bones, the life from her heart. He was so intense, so ruthlessly relentless in his purchase of her, she couldn't bear it. His hands felt the lengths of her arms, his fingers interlocking with hers and dragging her hands above her head as he deepened the kiss. She protested slightly as her arms stretched there, tightening and making her breasts peak against his chest. She could feel him against her, everywhere. His strong, firm chest against her sensitive breasts, his legs on either side of hers. Then there was the feeling of his hard manhood just below her belly. She clamped her legs harder closed.

When he finally broke the kiss, it left her gasping. Her cheeks were flushed, and the feel of his breath against her warm skin was titillating. She bit her lip, trying to be as mute as possible, trying to ignore what he was doing to her as much as possible.

His kisses fluttered down her jaw, down over her throat and she clenched her thighs together. She was growing damp and hated herself for it. Her captor kissed down over her collarbone, down to her breast.

"No..." She moved her body, squirming underneath him as he held her hands in a vice grip above her head. She could barely move, but tried nonetheless, and saw his sly grin as his tongue found her breast. She sank her teeth into her lip and held her breath as the sensations of his administration swept through her. The combination of his breath and the expert movement of his tongue, and the feel of his body pressing down on her, made her nipple peak wantonly. She shook her head, whimpering.

Until he took the little rosy coloured bud between his teeth. It ached hotly and Cora tried so hard not to let it affect her. She squeezed her eyes closed. When she felt the air sucked over the hot, tortured bud, she couldn't help herself. Her lips parted and she gasped, her upper body bucking slightly. She bit her lip again, clenching her fingers hard around his, her hips shifting in response to her body's tremblings.

 

[cgraven]

"No..."

Cora had gasped even as her treacherous young body began to betray her. Oh how she still squirmed beneath him and yet that sweet little throbbing rosebud peak wantonly as he seductively suckled it. Cora’s head lulled side to side as her pious young mind tried so hard to deny what her supple young body so desperately wanted. Rolf smiled to himself at the sensual little gasp that escaped the girl’s moist ripe lips, the way her gorgeous
young body bucked was it arched, pressing her aching breast harder to his mouth.

Slowly Knutson raised his head, his teeth racking across the moist tip of her nipple. He stilled his hot moist breath washing over her moist nipple. Then he turned his head towards Cora’s neglected nipple slowly, maddenly slowly Rolf head began to lower as he let his trapped little concubine anticipate what was to come. Once more his tongue tormented and teased Cora’s areola, once more his lips inhaled her throbbing rosebud nipple, and once more he inhaled sending a most sinfully sensual shiver through the young beauty’s body.

Rolf loved each little surrender of Cora’s treacherous young body. Those sensually tender kisses, those seductive little lover’s nips, floated down across Cora’s quivering belly and now Rolf added erotic tonguing to his sensual assault as the tip of his tongue reamed the girl’s dimpled naval. Rolf’s hands slid down the girl’s arms, the sensual curves of her torso until he cupped her breasts once more in his huge hands. Lower those sensual kisses, seductive lover’s nips, and erotic tonguing crept. A little nip to that sensual little hallow were Cora’s hip and thigh met, A sinful kiss to her sweet pale pink maidenly folds as the spars wisps of her tawny golden fleece danced in his hot moist breath. Then the tip of his tongue snaked out to taste her for the first time.

 

[prettyserpentine]

She thrashed in the bed, her breathing coming in short sharp gasps as she struggled to keep her legs together. Her captor moved to the soft mound of her other breast, licking, suckling and biting it the way he had her first. She whimpered again, her body shivering and trembling against her wishes.

"Stop this..." Her voice was shaking and high-pitched. She tipped her head back, his hands still gripping hers and she arched her back, as if stretching.

Her captor fluttered his tongue down over her ribcage, and it danced around her navel. She squirmed, trying to move herself away from him, as he let go of her hands. She gripped the wooden headboard, her nails digging into it as his mouth lowered, his kisses, his licks flicking across the skin of her belly. His hands moved down, over her neck, past her shoulders until they cupped her full and sensitive breasts, and she tried to suppress a groan, biting on her finger to stop herself.

He used his legs to open her own, and she thrashed again, bucking her hips and feeling his breath against her soft hair, the kiss against her thigh, the gentle nip, then the kiss against her soft, moist flesh. She moved both hands down, but his elbows raised, blocking her. She tried to sit up, against his weight.

"No, please, don't...you can't...-"

And then she felt his tongue.

"Aaahhh...!" She fell back against the pillows, her hands curling into fists, pulling at the bedcovers as her cry echoed out around the room, escaping out the window, warning anyone who could hear of the sweet torture. Her body arched, her shoulders buried in the bed as her hips lifted, her breasts held firmly in place by his large hands.

"No...no, no...oh god..." She cried out again, thrashing, her thighs widening, as if offering him more purchase as she protested, still trying to wriggle away from him, from those hands.... From that tongue...

 

[cgraven]

"No, please, don't...you can't.

Cora’s weak little protest, though it may have been heart felt was little more than a gasped whisper that ended in a staggered moan of unwanted ecstasy as the hapless young redheaded beauty moaned,

"Aaahhh...!"

Even as her pious young mind screamed from the depth of her tormented soul No! her treacherous young body arched from the bed as Cora pressed her hips to Rolfs mouth.

"No...no, no...oh god..."

The anguished plea bubbled for Cora’s ripe moist lips as the tip of Knutson tongue slide once more along the young redhead’s maidenly folds. Rolf could taste the sweet nectar of her arousal with each long, slow, sensually seductive lick of his tongue. Each pass cleaving deeper and deeper into Cora’s chaste young body. The tip of that devilish tongue fluttered over the hooded guardian of her maiden’s treasure, coaxing her pearl of passion form its hooded hiding place. Rolf’s teeth raked over Cora’s throbbing clit and as he had done with each of her nipples he held that throbbing pearl between his teeth inhaled deeply drawing a cool stream of air across the feverous bud.


Rolf lifted his head his eyes met Cora’s, her own sweet nectar glistening on his face, proclaiming to her and all the world how her own gorgeous young body had betrayed her. Then Knutson lowered his head once more to the girl’s succulent innocence and he began to lash Cora’s sweet young pussy with mouth, lips, tongue, and teeth.

 

[prettyserpentine]

When he nipped the little bud between his teeth and sucked the air over it, Cora actually screamed. Her legs trembled and her hands gripped his, her nails digging into his skin as her hips bucked against him. She tossed her head, groaning into the pillow, almost crying, begging him to stop. She didn't want to do this, she didn't want him to continue because she couldn't trust herself.

He looked up at her, her face streaked with tears, her cheeks red with heat, and in the moments he was looking at her, she tried to scoot up the bed again. But it was no good. He smirked and delved back inside her with his tongue. She cried out again, calling to god and anyone who could hear her, her throat rasping as her cries rang out.

His tongue felt indescribable. She couldn't bear it, her body was shaking, drawing close to that moment of inevitable sweetness, and she threw her arms across her face to hide her shame.

"Oh dear god, no more.... Oh..."

 

[cgraven]

Rolf took great delight in the sensually seductive torment that he was subjecting Cora to. He was no stranger to a woman’s body and how to carnally excite that tender succulent flesh no matter how much her pious little mind screamed NO or how many times she begged and pleased with him to stop, to have mercy on her.

"Oh dear god, no more.... Oh..."

Oh how he loved each little surrender of Cora’s body, how she now trembled beneath him, how her hips arched off the bed of her shame as she pressed her sweet pussy to his mouth. Knutson’s nostril with filled with the intoxicating musky fragrance of Cora’s unwanted arousal as he greedily lapped up her sweet dewy nectar. Rolf had teased and pushed Cora to the edge of that abyss that promised her such darkly forbidden pleasure. He held the young girl there tittering on the edge; that illusive pleasure that she had so long denied herself now almost with in her grasp. Then Rolf back off ever so slightly and let that sinful pleasure slip form her grasp. Time and again he brought his little redheaded beauty tittering to the edge only to deny her. Then at last with a casual flick of his tongue Rolf Knutson pushed Cora over the edge of that abyss and to be claimed by that dark swirling forbidden pleasure.

 

[prettyserpentine]

Cora screamed.

Her back arched off the bed, her arms tangled above her head and her legs spasmed and thrashed beneath him. The feeling was too much, too much, as she had fought the frustration and ended up spiralling over the edge of the orgasm, falling and falling, twirling, twisting in a dance of complete ecstasy.

His hands were still covering her breasts, and her nipples budded painfully, pressing against his palms as her back arched, her body curling around him, her thighs opened wide as he lapped at her incessantly.

She couldn't even cry out his name, just screamed incoherently as her hips bucked against his mouth, as he kissed her there. She felt her muscles spasm and clench, and she was uneasy, writhing and mewling...