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When he closed his eyes, no matter how slight, he could see the movement of her dark, golden skin against the paleness of his own. He could feel it and that was torture. He craved her touch and the mercy that it offered. A good fight in the heart of battle had always brought him great pleasure, great glory. That was where he belonged. Now, she was the only true delight of his heart, a respite from this world’s cruelties.

She was his afterlife because his world changed the moment he entered her. He became anew, diminishing the man he thought he was. This transformation was not one of the eye, but of the soul. Each moment possible was set aside to do nothing but devour her. This only made him want her more. His lover held back nothing, her body always ready and always giving him what he needed before he recognized a need. Within her he could stretch and expand the way a real man should. With one look, she made him feel like a God. That is the strength real men seek.

Sitting on his lap, with her thighs spread wide and his body between them was where she belonged. He could taste the sweetness of her tit as he pulled from it with his lips and laved it with his tongue. With the slightest pressure of his bite, he could feel her shiver. The sensations they created, the stroke of his cock pushing inside her and then pulling back, was enough to weaken the legs of any man. All the while, her hips teased with a dance created just for him and performed on his cock. She pushed forward just as he flexed the muscles of his backside, she allowed him deeper access. With his hands spread out, squeezing her round ass, he plunged forward as if that could make him a part of her.

The softness of her tender lips or the feel of her tongue battling against his for dominance, made him smile at her boldness. He could hear her moans of satisfaction from his balance of unrestrained lust and gentle intentions. What they shared went beyond fucking. It was the difference between having a woman and having half of your soul returned. The sound of her crying out, a completion brought on by the pleasure he supplied as his seed, hot and heavy, flooded her body, was music to his ears. She was his song. She was his reason. There were no words. Men like him had no words for such things.

This is why he dared not close his eyes.

She moved him. He was not a man easily moved. He was not a man to fall victim to his passions. He was a man of war, a Viking, a warrior like no other. He was the son of a great chieftain who ruled over many colonies and territories of great mass. Other men paled by comparison to this man. Men of immense power and distinguished records of battle were proud to be of service to him. His brawny ruggedness was only highlighted by his advanced intelligence. This alone made him properly entitled to lead. Demonstrations of such earned him endless loyalty.

He was not a man to be tested, not if one fancied the desire to see the rising of another sun. His current situation was a test, not of strength nor of power but of the heart. His heart was strong. One could trust this fact; he would not stand for an attempt to have it cut in two.

It was simple, she was his. He guarded what was his. He would go to the end of this earth to bring her back to him.

The air was crisp, with a bitter wind. His senses were keen. He could smell what lay before him and he was more than ready. Clothed for battle, warmth, and stealth, he looked foreign to the eye of the average Norseman. Travel had taught him much when it came to personal defense. His dress consisted of tight leather britches, a form of boot high on his leg made with the sturdy hide of animals never seen in his homeland and laced at the back of his calf. Some type of thin, interlocked metal fell like cloth down his chest and over his shirting, ending at his waist. Over that was a short cover of hide made from the animal whose fur lay over his shoulders. A sword, alleged by others to be forged and given to him by the Gods, hung across his back. This is how he appeared as he exited his private area.

Without his knowledge, his men had gathered on the deck and stood before him ready for battle.

“I have not requested this of you,” his voice, strong, sturdy and commanding. “This is a private matter.”

In unison, the men made a sound that only compared to the clipped roar of a fierce beast. The sound cut through the cold air, nothing else could be heard. It made clear that there would be no success in thwarting them this night.

“I shall only need a few,” he told them with the pride that only they could evoke.

The ones that knew him best stepped forward without hesitation. The others regretted not having the opportunity.

As they made their way to fulfill this quest, his thoughts were of her. "Soon, very soon," he told himself with the hope that she could hear him. He wanted the power of what surged within him to gather and be carried by the winds, felt across her face.

"Trust this."

**************************

On his first encounter with her, with clarity he made it known to the people that he and his men were men of honor. They did not take part in the peddling and trading of flesh, as was the habit of most Greenlanders. There would be no captives taken to weigh him or what was his down. This gave some men hope and a sure death for others. The raid was on a certain foul and duplicitous clan that had stolen from the lands that he administered. In this village, he discovered the young woman with dark, twisted hair falling pass her shoulders and partially covering her face. Although he stood at a certain distance and was accompanied by men, she returned his gaze with no shame or fear. They were dark eyes that had seen things and contained no shock regarding what was taking place around her. He could not resist a closer look. It revealed skin, where dirt did not cover, that was the color of hazelnuts—a treat he enjoyed. Once heated, the treat had an unusual sweetness. Immediately he wondered if she would have the same flavor. Shame caused his face to redden. Such thoughts should not be entertained in such situations, by such a man.

It was apparent, her eyes missed nothing.

Helpless and worn in the corner of a wooden cage, she huddled herself. Treated like an animal, she wrapped herself in a blanket of threaded wool that barely covered her. The coldness that circulated assailed her without pity, causing her to tremble.

He knew the men that had taken her were heavily weighed down by superstitions. They were unjustifiable beliefs, only myths. That alone kept her living and free from defilement—at least in this place. These clansmen were in great fear of her. They thought the Blåmenn, the people of permanent darkness, possessed special powers. He thought it ridiculous that the color of her skin convinced them of such nonsense. They sought to possess her power and use it against their enemies. They waited for their many Gods to give them a sign of how to obtain it. But he had seen men of darker color possessing no more or less than he. Having traveled far in his Longships, he and his men had raided and traded along the coasts of France, Spain, Sicily, Italy and yes, North Africa. He was more than familiar with her people. As far as the power of Gods was concerned, he had seen people of many Gods and people of only one. Both, with their foolish rituals and vain patience, gave excuses for the lack of Godly demonstrations. Their excuses had no point and less reasoning.

One would think that the presence of their enemy standing in their midst with no fear of their Gods, as they begged for their lives, was a sign of their stupidity. He knew those who lived to see the completion of that day would remain blinded, still enslaved to baseless beliefs. Blindness would continue to let them think they had the right to enslave others.

With this thought in mind, he demanded that she be freed. This leader of men felt that every man and woman should have not only freedom of body but of will. Something about her made her freedom more important to him than the freedom of other slaves. Because she was the only one of her kind present, he reasoned that this was best. At least that was what he told himself.

However, she refused to come out. She clung to the corner of her cage, moving away from the outstretched hands of his men. She made growling sounds and hissed as if cursing them. When he walked up to the contraption that held her, he did not bend as the others did in an effort to put her at ease. There was no need for him to get on her level. The two of them had already established eye contact. She knew who he was. He bent his head slightly to one side and looked at her with an amused understanding. He knew that she fully recognized the reasoning behind his expression, stopping her insufferable clamoring. Then she pursed her lips, pouting, nostrils flaring in distaste.

He grinned as her eyes narrowed in anger. “Why you little bitch,” he thought.

“Stay or leave,” he announced. “The choice is yours.”

She still did not move.

“You can gain comfort from the freedom we offer or stay here with what you know to be. It is a matter of trust that only you can extend. They will not continue to fear you eventually,” he continued, now looking bored. “Their Gods are as uninterested in them as these people will soon be with you. Of course, they will have their retribution. The fool you have made of them will be obvious.”

He had a feeling that his language created no barrier. It seemed as if she weighed his words and he had ultimately won.

She could not stand but managed to come through the opening.

He watched her body stretch in relief, as did his men. She was exceptionally shapely and his look was embarrassingly long.

He then turned to walk away.

“Burn it all until nothing remains. Kill all committing the offense and any that join in resistance. Examples should be set. Let the women and children find their own way. Do not harm them. Anyone that causes them harm shall be permanently marked, without mercy, by my own hand. Make sure that this is made clear.” Although his orders seemed to be an afterthought thrown over his shoulder, there was undoubtable authority and meaning in his tone.

In her opinion, the men that came were more terrifying than those that held her captive--if not worse. She had watched the people of the village react as soon as they were informed that these men were coming. The men that came did not allot the villagers much time.

Listening carefully, she understood who was coming and why. She had not let her captors know that she had perfect command of their language. She understood and could speak many dialects. This had proven to be advantageous. Comfortable that they were not understood, they spoke freely around her. There were many things that she wished she had not heard.

Cursing the ones that were responsible for this threat, some villagers immediately fled. Others felt no need to run, feeling that the approaching men would only hunt them down and kill them. To them, running gave the assumption of guilt. Only a few were bold enough to think they could stand their ground and meet the coming challenge with success. Her owners were part of that group. This was not the first time she thought them stupid.

Simply put, there was no challenge. The men did not come with many. It was not the huge army described. However, they moved through the village with trained swiftness. Those men in the village that cooperated easily were placed on their knees in the market square, their hands behind their heads. That was a gift. Those that fought back or gave any type of resistance were killed with quick efficiency. She had to look away as some men were struck down. Some of the wives stood helpless, witnessing what was happening to their men. Some women attempted to fight. They were brushed away as insignificant.

It was easy to see who was in charge. Never before had she seen a man like him. His hair was untethered, long and flowing. A woman would be blessed to have such hair. There was nothing about him that made you think of a woman though. His body was strong. He was all man. Surety of his virility radiated from every pore. Little effort was put into this on his part. She could tell it was as natural for him as breathing. His face was clean shaven and his eyes were like ice, a blueness that was uniquely clear. She knew that he was not like others. When he focused on her, her assumption was proven correct. She froze under his gaze. She wondered if he was demon or god. He revealed nothing. She felt assessed and found unworthy. He moved on without incident. She was more than just relieved. Maybe her life would be spared.

If he or any of his men came close to her, she thought it best to continue her ruse. She must appear strong regardless of how weak she felt.

Once the men left, she would find some way to free herself. She was quite clever when called upon. Before there had been no need to escape, she was occasionally fed and free of any male misuse. Besides, where could she go? Blending in would be an impossibility for her. Not having the convenience of keeping herself clean was distasteful, but it only made her look more menacing.

When his men finally came for her, she feared for her life. Unlike the other women, she was just a slave to be used and discarded at whim. She had been sold or traded several times and quite lucky. However, this was the worst possible scenario. She was truly scared. Her situation looked desperate. She tried to continue her act. The men were either on to her or just not frightened. When he came, she knew that her game was up. She could see it in his eyes. It was as if he was mocking her.

He offered her freedom, something she hardly believed. Generally when offered freedom it came with unattainable attachments. He appeared to care less as far as her decision was concerned. However, some of his words were true and without embellishments. What choice did she have? To stay, even if she managed to get out of the cage, was dangerous.

She had to practically crawl to get out of her holding cell.

Once out she stretched. Her body ached all over. She felt them watching her. When she looked, it was confirmed. She recognized the look in their eyes. She recognized the look in his eyes. This further scared her. Were they going to use her? Would she survive such a thing? Maybe she could be his and the others would stay away. He did not look like the type of man that shared. When he turned to walk away, the other men continued on with their tasks at hand. Relief overwhelmed her. These men not only appeared different, they were different. She would go where they went. Maybe there were more of such men. Maybe she could find some type of safety with them. It had been a long time since she felt safe, and that was short lived.

The girl had conceded, but he knew immediately that her trust would be hard won. While mounting his horse he could see that she was smart enough to follow them, but cautious enough to remain at a distance.

He slowed his progress to accommodate her pace. She definitely lacked a certain gracefulness. The breaking of branches and disturbance of leaves made her position obvious. Her command of his language, though tainted with an unfamiliar accent, was undeniable. He could clearly hear her profanities with each misstep, something most likely due to lack of proper foot wrappings. She often stumbled. She fell once and he considered sending someone to get her, but thought better of it.

The words that he had shared with her assured her of a certain amount of security. He could not leave her among those he had found her with. That would only result in a return to her previous situation. Even the women would feel free to abuse her. He could not allow that. However, her presence on his ship would definitely agitate his men. After all was said and done, they were just males and she a female. He found no favor in the possible abuse of women.

With great irascibility, he gave in to his better self. A nod of his head directed toward her location caused two of his men to retrieve her from an attempt to hide behind a tree. She fought them to no avail. He found the effort itself amusing. He admired her spirit.

He pulled her up onto his horse so that she rode in front of him. She swore again as he removed the space between them. Unlike what the other two men were subjected to, she did not attempt to fight him. With the unusual styling of her hair somewhat in his face, it interested him. Close proximity revealed thin, rope like, interwoven strands. This had to be something unnatural and created by herself. He had never seen it before. He wondered what possessed her to do such a thing to her hair. He also wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.

Riding beside him was his oldest friend, raising a questioning eyebrow. He chose to simply ignore him. He had no answers.

They continued in silence until they reached a river. Men were there waiting to retrieve the horses. The man and his men boarded a ship that appeared too large for the river. The man then handed her to someone else.

She protested again. With one look from him, she quieted.

All of the men were much taller and athletic than the ones that she was accustomed to. They handled her roughly with little effort. Too, she had never actually been in anything other than a lake or the like. She tried hard not to show fear.

Surprisingly, the ship navigated the shallow waters easily. Once in open water, several ships waited—fierce and imposing. Shields aligned the sides. A few men transferred to one, bringing her along kicking and cursing.

It mattered not what vessel they were aboard, she noticed the men not fulfilling assignments stared at her as if she had horns and breathed fire. She was more revealed than others, having not been given warmer wear. When the temperature fell, she knew that she would die on the floor of this open aired ship, with the rhythm of rowing traveling with her into the afterlife. The men seemed oblivious to her plight and stared regardless. Once recovered from a sickness that had suddenly overtook her, the girl returned to intermittently hissing and growling at the men. It seemed to work.

For the most part, the man in charge ignored her. However, her current behavior caught his attention.

“Please,” he said as if talking to a child, “do you not grow tired of that ridiculous game?”

With a smug expression, she lifted her head and turned away.

He fully laughed for the first time that day. To him, she was quite amusing.

They then came alongside a more magnificent, grander ship that left her gawking. Her jaw dropped. The head of a fierce eagle decorated the ship’s prows, with long wings falling back as if ready to dive and retrieve its prey. The sight of it frightened her. She was suddenly hoisted up and then dragged by the arm to a lower area. Slung into what looked like a room, she was left alone.

He commanded that she reside in his personal area, the only real privacy to be found on his Longship. Such an area was unusual, but he had this ship especially made for him. This was his home.

When he finally came, he found her curled up in a corner. Only after some time was he able to convince her to sleep on his makeshift bed. There she sat balled up again. He assumed that she feared he might bed her. He found this irritating since he had no intention to do so. He slept upright, opposite of her, against a wall. He had slept in worse positions and in worse places. The one that he took now was not out of fear. He thought it best to watch her and put some distance between them since she had proven herself to be quite unpredictable.

He communicated with her freely and in his own tongue right from the start, but she refused to make an effort to do the same. The arrogant rise of her head or the narrowing of her eyes was all he received. At first she refused to eat the food, but that soon changed. He was given nothing for the kindnesses he extended. He often wondered how she had managed to stay alive for so long. There were moments when he thought of grabbing her by the neck and choking the life out of her. He was certain that it had entered the mind of another. He concluded that the most frightful of demons would be more bearable than she was.

He often chose to transfer to his other ships.

The girl found him confusing. One minute he treated her as equal; the next minute he treated her as slave. At times it angered her greatly. Once she found out she was allowed to express herself without punishment, she pushed in order to know her limit. Sometimes he was nice and sometimes obviously irritated. She was equally irritated as well.

Still, she did not like it when he left her alone and his return was not known. She felt helpless. He had chosen her and brought her here, but for what use.

He would easily disrobe without any indication of noticing her. She was sure that this meant something. Why else would he do it? But, he had not touched her or given her any indication as to whether he would. She tried to interest him, hoping that he would keep her. There were times when he watched her, she was certain of it. He would tease her, yet not touch her or crawl into her bed. If she had no use, why would he keep her?

Maybe he was in fear of her, like the other men. She doubted that. Or, her skin color did not appeal to him. She did not want to anger him by assuming either way. There was something about him that made her wish he would touch her. Although a slave, her needs were that of all women. She did not understand what it all meant.

She felt it better to keep her mouth closed and be watchful.

She found herself admiring the broadness of his shoulders, the way it flowed into a narrow waist. Everything about his body screamed strength, no part of him was without muscle. What she found most stirring was where the outer part of his legs met his hip. The defining of such an area escaped her. All she knew was how it formed an inverted U at the top of his thigh. It moved in to a well formed V at his front, below the divided muscles of his torso, and led the eye to a nest of blond hair. There hung an impressive appendage, having girth as well as length. She thought him intimidating, some of his parts more so than others. Unfortunately, she was not innocent when it came to the form of men. Not being touched by her last owners was pure luck. With the size of his hands and that appendage, she bet that he had pleased a great number of women. Visioning that made her tingle in her most intimate place.

This frustrated her further. Anger would envelop her, she hated that his body provoked such feelings.

Despite what type of mood she was in, she did keep the area clean. The girl kept his clothes clean too. He liked that about her. He noted that she seemed to mind his absences and behaved much better upon his return—for a brief period. As time passed, there were moments when she would forget herself and almost be kind. The look in her dark eyes would be strangely welcoming. He sometimes found her to be surprisingly coy and smiling at odd opportunities. During these periods, the most unexpected urge to reach out and touch the surface of her skin overtook him. He was sure that it was for the purpose of forming some type of connection, indemnifying his decision concerning her. These moments were short lived as well.

He was a great swordsman, known to possess the ability of using either his left or right hand to wield his sword. He also excelled in the use of the knife. He carried many, most in hidden places. But from her he hid nothing. Without concern for her preferences, he would strip himself of his confines. Without any shame he walked naked before her. At first she was uncomfortable. He found her discomfort amusing since the traditions of her people left them scantily dressed. She began, however, to regard him when she thought him distracted—especially when he bathed. Of course he equally regarded her, but with no discomfort or pretense of shame.

One night, when she thought him sleep, she took one of his many knives. He thought the probability of her getting the best of him was impossible. He definitely was not afraid that she would take his life. He considered overpowering her and lifting up the skirt of her shift, and then he could simply claim what was already his. But, his hands under her clothing were dangerous. He was not sure if he could control them. He could simply ask for it. However, the moment he had chosen proved itself to be quite uncomfortable. There was something in her eyes that gave him pause. He thought of how he would react in her position. He would have also acquired the means to defend himself. He decided to let her keep it, to somewhat trust her.

He had awakened a few times to find her sitting upright, watching him. It caused him no discomfort only confusion. It was hard to tell whether she wanted the feel of him alongside her or if she was devising a plan to kill him. Of course the first option would meet no refusal. Regardless, he let the front of his furs slightly open. This made her immediately lie back down and turn her back to him. It was nothing but a game to him and made him laugh. It was the only time she appeared truly embarrassed.

As retribution for a particularly irritating period with her, he refused to supply her with sustenance—or so it appeared. Actually, he was leaving the ship, boarding another to handle some business. He simply did not want any man aboard to have access to her for any reason. He locked her in and restrained her movements so that she could only do what was necessary. He had little doubt that she would try to leave the room if she could.

He asked himself if he was protecting her or the poor soul that dared come near her.

Upon his return, he perceived a sign of relief in her eyes. He concluded that it was most likely caused by hunger. He had been gone a little more than three days. It could not be helped. He himself had gone without food for six at one time. Still, his actions gnawed at his conscience. He felt that standing firm was a necessity. She had to be taught respect. This new found freedom and yet restrictions obviously confused her. He understood how that could happen. But, lines had to be strongly drawn. She had to learn independence, but understand that he was in charge.

He went about his business within the room, pretending to not notice her. She remained restricted. She also remained defiant.

He had an idea and used the situation to fulfill it.

Eventually he did bring in food. But, he did not give it to her. He placed it just out of her reach. She protested, violently pulling at her restraints. He made it clear that if she chose to act like a rabid animal, he would treat her like one.

This angered her more.

“You say that you give me freedom and yet place restraints around my ankle. Your cage is only larger than the one I had before.”

These words were her first spoken to him, dismissing her affinity for profanity. It was a shame that they were spit out with such anger and contempt.

“What you say may be true. My actions have, however, been well earned. There is no denying the truth in that.”

He told her that she would receive no food until she performed requested tricks. Her countenance immediately shifted. She retreated and placed herself in the same corner she had upon arriving. She pulled her legs in close and wrapped her arms around them.

He thought this odd, but continued.

The first demand was simple and quite playful. He felt that it would soften the mood. Smiling, he requested that she return the same. He had never seen someone’s smile appear so feral. It did, however, give him a hearty laugh. After her performance, he gave her a small piece of meat.

She looked at him in disbelief, but only after quickly taking his offering.

“I’m afraid that amount is all you have earned for your pleasant display,” he teased.

He could see that she was fighting what he defined as one of her tantrums. Previously allowing her to demonstrate such, simply because he found them entertaining, was an error on his part. They had gone far past amusing. He felt that she sensed that now.

Pausing dramatically and eating something off her plate, he made his next request.

“Tell me your name.”

She glared at him.

He raised a shoulder dismissively and began to gather the things he had brought.

“Starving you only supplies more for my men. At least they would show gratitude. It would also relieve me of an unpleasant apparition—one that grows more unbearable each day.”

He started for the door.

She waited until his hand reached out to open it. “Iona,” she whispered.

“What was that,” he teased without turning to look at her, “did I hear something?”

“Iona,” she said much louder.

Her voice was surprisingly delicate now.

He turned to look at her.

“Iona,” she repeated, hope in her eyes.

“I wish to know your real name, the one given before you became a slave.”

There was a pause.

“I cannot remember. As a child I was given the name of my owner’s dog for his enjoyment. I was told never to speak my own language. When I did, I received blows from a leather strap with holes. I was told that if I did not learn quickly, I would be sold to one or many that would truly treat me like a dog. They would most assuredly make me learn. They would mate me like a bitch and be done with me like refuse. There was no one there that I could share the remembered things of my people, even in secret. After a time, I no longer recognized my own tongue.”

At first her words seemed stilted, but as they flowed they became laced with long hidden emotion. Sharing them obviously brought back unwanted memories and tears creeped down her cheek.

Her words made him swell with guilt. He wondered if he should bring this game to an end. His curiosity won out.

“And how did you end up in the place where I found you?”

“My owner began to lay with me and reduced my burdens. His woman found out and was angered. My owner did not come to my rescue. His woman sold me to those people, giving them lies to increase my worth.”

“What did she find to be your value?”

“Finely woven cloth in the color of wine that comes from the Southern lands.”

“What do you know of the Southern lands?”

“Despite what you may think of me, I am not without ears.” With those words the fire returned to her eyes.

He decided that he preferred that much better than tears.

While away he had thought of her and found raised bread and honey. He had brought back beef roasted over a fire for everyone instead of just the usual dried or cured meat. But for her alone, he brought back a sweet gravy for her beef, cabbage with leeks and hard wedged cheese. He had even brought her containers of preserved plums and raspberries. For drink, he brought her fresh goat’s milk. This was a feast that suddenly did not seem to be enough. He wished that he could give her something that would let her know that her value was much more than any price previously asked. But, what could do that?

He removed her confines and watched as she devoured her meal. Once she noticed him watching, she slowed down enough to actually chew. He loved the way she licked the honey from the raised bread. He knew that it tasted so much better than the usual flat bread. But the way she enjoyed the honey was stirring. The way she let the tip of her tongue taste it first, the way she savored its sweetness and licked as if she could extend the experience, it made him feel as if he was tasting it as well. The need for touch returned. This time it was in a way that he could not deny. His groin tightened and his cock grew hard.

Thinking about how she might react to such, his mind cleared. Due to the life she had endured, there was great reason for her to distrust him. The men she had been subjected to were not men at all. They had never deserved her trust. It was something he hoped to eventually garner.

In the meantime, his absence left him with many things to do. He stood to leave.

“I am Gulbrandson Kieren,” he threw over his shoulder before exiting. This meant that the infamous Gulbrand was his father, a fact that most likely meant nothing to a slave.

“I well know your name and origin,” she defiantly returned, with a mouth filled with food. “Must I keep reminding you that I am neither dumb nor deaf?”

He laughed. Her original master must have been of high rank. Her vocabulary was quite developed.

********************************

Kieren had his duties. Many Longships and smaller crafts were under his command or readily dedicated to his cause. There were things that were done, things that he organized and directed. There were many things that he participated in with great glory. Many were things that concerned men only and should not be witnessed by the softness of a woman. There were things he knew Iona had witnessed prior to what brought her to him. Kieren did not want her to associate him with such things, nor did he want her to see the baseness of what he sometimes was forced to display. He felt that she had seen and endured enough. Because of this, he was very strict as to her movements. Sometimes he had her removed for her own safety and there would be times when one had no access to the other.

These were stressful moments for Iona. She thought of her future without his guardianship. Although not touched in any offensive way, looks she received from his men scared her. They ranged from obvious dislike to that of a sexual nature. Their last time apart was particularly alarming. She vowed to convince him that there was some value to her presence—no matter what she must do.

When they were back together again, Iona attempted to keep Kieren entertained. She found him to have a playful nature when they were alone. He would occasionally bring her up from the lower area. Iona liked the way he fussed over her, making sure she dressed with the warm coverings he had acquired -- things suitable for a woman of substance. She was then able to look out over the sea. This generally occurred when the right moment presented itself and his men were busy.

He loved the magnificence of the sea, the power it possessed. It beat against the ship with such fierceness, while simultaneously cresting with its distinctive sounds, only to crash into itself somewhere else. Kieren wanted her to see it the way he did, to crave it as he did. The sea reminded him of man and what it meant to be one. The sea was a thing with its own life, separate and unpredictable, strong, giving but quick to claim what it wanted. It was God-like and unmatchable in its glory, requesting nothing—not your fear, your praise nor willing sacrifices. It was without care or concern for anything other than itself. It required only that you stand on your own, face what moved in front of you without fear and guard what was yours.

The wind was another matter. Like sharp spears of ice, it stabbed at the face and threatened whatever was not protected. It boldly warred with the sea. It considered man to be a worthless opponent. Because of this he watched her closely to make sure she was comfortable and safe. At the same time, he could not control his growing regard for her.

Kieren could not deny her unique attractiveness. She was both exotic to him and yet familiar. He enjoyed looking upon her. He equally enjoyed watching her reaction to everything that she encountered. The animals of the sea fascinated her.

He grew fond of the way she looked at him, lately it was without anger. Sometimes Iona’s facial expressions baffled him. Her eyes revealed things he could not understand. When the shadows of the moon highlighted her features, she was even more of a mystery to him. He speculated that it was because he had always viewed life through the eyes of a proud, free man. She remembered nothing but enslavement. This had its effect.

She was particular about neatness and bathed every day, which when available was his nature as well. He now enjoyed gathering the warm water for her himself, where generally he had it brought to him. Kieren would slip into the water after her. It somehow made him feel closer to her as he rubbed her abrasive, cleaning cloth across his skin. He had one of his men make an expensive trade for thick oil extracted from nuts, with flowers floating within it. Iona treated it as if precious. She would massage her smooth, brown skin with it and rub a little in her hair. Her reaction made him proud of his choice. To watch her apply it left him wanting. He loved the smell of it and how it filled the air that surrounded her. His desire to touch her had extended to something more carnal, causing his control to wear thin.

He could not deny that he admired the curve of Iona’s hips, her small waist and the swell of her firm breasts. The circle around her nipples was darker than her skin, something that enticed him. When extended, each nipple reminded him of a small, dark berry. He wished to taste their sweetness with the tip of his tongue before devouring them. He thought her beautiful too—the loveliness of her face, almond shaped eyes with long dark lashes, sultry lips and button nose. Mostly, he loved the full roundness of her bottom. He enjoyed grabbing a fine ass, spreading out his hands and squeezing. For him it held the greatest attraction. He considered it to be one of her finest assets.

When Iona bathed, her body still wet, she would slip on a thin shift. It clung to her in places. He delighted in viewing her curves and shadows by candlelight. His cock would grow obviously hard. Of course he was no stranger to giving and receiving sexual pleasures. Being within touching distance and not being able to touch her was sometimes unbearable.

However, once again she began to underestimate his kindnesses.

When Iona grew more comfortable and adjusted to his presence, she displayed a wicked sense of humor and a quick tongue. He had to admit that generally she could take as much as she gave. For the most part, he enjoyed the challenge she presented. There were moments, however, when her temperament would rise. She forgot her place and drew him close to the edge. It was as if she desired to see a different side of him, she needed it. He either ended their exchange or responded in a way that left her speechless. It was generally the latter.

Once, she became so angry at his response that she threw something at him and it came so close to his face that he felt and heard its passing. Without thinking, and with speed she had never thought him capable of, he grabbed her by the shoulders. His fingers dug into her skin as he forced himself to gain control.

At first she was scared, but then grew bold.

“So now you prove yourself to be like every man, abuse me and then treat me like the dog you think I am?” she returned.

“You ungrateful bitch,” he growled. “I have experienced dogs that show their teeth and bite less than you do. I would rather share my space with one of them.”

“Then leave me to the waters of the sea and gather for yourself such hounds.”

His strength allowed him to draw her up so that they were face to face. “You are so used to mistreatment that you foolishly place no value on being treated well,” he told her, having somewhat calmed himself down.

“Is this well treatment to you?” Her words were cold. “Now I am enslaved to you. You determine what I eat and where I go. You detest me and then label me. I am not even good enough for you to use fully.”

“What you do here you do at your own discretion. I needed nothing before you and I will need nothing after you are gone.” His words were equally cold.

“You grip me in anger and with the same anger you pull me off my feet. Your desire to mark me is clear. I know, without yet experiencing but a portion of it, you are capable of great abuse when it comes to me. But, I can tell by what you wear on your back that receiving abuse is not new to you. You have the markings of someone once enslaved. Slaves that are given power become worse than those who have the power to give. They are more dangerous and cause more harm because now they simply can. Will you mark my back as well tonight, so that I never forget your well treatment? Will you mark me so that no man desires to touch me because you have no desire to? You seem to be the type that enjoys intimacy with dogs, or is it boys?”

The mention of his back and what lay there immediately drew his anger. But to question his manhood took him to another level. His blue eyes grew wild, his voice unrecognizable to her.

He first let her fall to the floor.

From that angle he looked massive, larger than she had ever known. He was the warrior, the one greater than just a man, the one that made the people of that village break down and pray to be spared. Just the mention of his approach had made some flee and leave everything they owned. This was not the man he had previously showed her. The anger she had now incited, left her terrified.

Kieren grabbed Iona by the arm, almost breaking it, and threw her across the bedding. She landed on her stomach so hard that it knocked the breath out of her. Kieren then pulled up her coverings and exposed her generous ass. His hand came down hard upon it.

Iona screamed in pain as he did it several times. Unable gather herself and in tears, the most interesting thing occurred. She felt herself become excited. Her pussy ached for him and she felt it preparing to receive him with the sharpness of each strike. Though her bottom was on fire, she still raised her ass to receive more of what he delivered. She was somewhat glad when it ended. That meant a greater possibility that he would answer her pussy’s call.

Iona felt him grab her by the waist to position her more to his liking. She obeyed. He spread her legs further apart and then plunged two fingers within her. Kieren pumped them several times. He fucked her with them. Then arched them inside of her and placed the pad of his fingers on something that made electricity surge through her. It was as if some lever had been pressed and threw her into another realm. Even with her face in the covers, her deep moan could be heard as it echoed through her body. She spread out her arms as far as they could, as if this would bring her some relief. Then he let those fingers tease that spot, while the fleshly part of his thumb repeatedly slid across the meeting point of every nerve she possessed. His manipulations made her body begin to shake uncontrollably. Iona began to rise toward something she had never felt before.

Just as fast as he created it, he took it away. Iona made a high pitched sound filled with frustration. She madly wanted him back inside of her. She wanted him to give her what her body needed. She protested and begged. Her body alone grew angry and protested as well.

Iona was too lost in what she felt to hear him free him. When his hands fell on each throbbing cheek and pulled them apart, she immediately knew what he was about to do. Before she could raise herself up in protest and crawl forward, Kieren grabbed her by the waist. It was too late. Kieren drove himself into the tight, puckered hole of her ass. She screamed out. His seemingly un-lubed cock felt enormous. The intrusion hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. She was relieved when he stopped moving. She welcomed the time to adjust. Then the most amazing feeling settled in. The harshness of his action aroused her more. The feel of pain intertwined with pleasure exhilarated her. She welcomed the feeling this man gave her. Once again, he was proving more skilled than she thought possible. She wanted him to fuck her this way. She wanted it hard and fast. She deserved to be punished by such a man. She wanted to feel the thickness of him punishing her more with each thrust.

He continued not to move.

“Is that all you have?” she demanded, barely able to breathe the words out.

Kieren wanted to mete out pain. It had been quite some time since he had experienced such blinding anger. She deserved every bit of what he suddenly gave. The marking of her ass with the palm of his hand had only been partially satisfying. He could see the reddish glow of her brown skin, feel its heat. Still, he wanted more. He needed to degrade her, furnish punishment for her impunity. But, she raised her ass as if somehow wanting his punishment.

He decided to punish her by withholding pleasure.

When he drove his fingers into her, she was sopping wet. A quick withdrawal left a thin line of her juice pulling at his fingers. This was a display of enjoyment she did not deserve. Her response disappointed him.

He plunged his fingers back inside of her. He worked them till he felt her pussy swelling around them. This proved that the blood was gathering toward her satisfaction. Then he hooked his fingers just enough to hit that spot that no woman could deny. As with every woman he chose to give this gift, Iona began to shake all over. But he was not finished. He knew how to make the slightest movement against that spot and combine it with spreading her juices repeatedly across the unhooded head of her clit. He knew how it would cause her to melt before him.

This was not about her enjoyment. This was about denial of enjoyment. He would not let her experience the bliss he offered. She did not deserve a content ending. He wished to leave her wanting, begging him for more. Kieren immediately withdrew his hand. Just like he knew she would, Iona began to protest and then beg.

This still was not enough.

He ignored her pleading as he decided not to hold himself back. His cock had already grown hard and ready. He undid his britches and pulled himself out. He still had her on his fingers and also where she had streamed into his hand. He rubbed her over his angry, swollen cock. He knew it would not be enough to gentle what he was about to do, but it was not about gentleness. It was about his satisfaction.

He placed his hands on her round, hot ass and separated her cheeks. Kieren positioned himself for entry. He sneered at her realization of what was about to happen. Before there was a chance that she may avoid what he was about to administer, he grabbed her hips and pulled her into him while he drove forward. Kieren knew that his size could make this position hard to handle. He wanted that for her. He broke into her swiftly, but was not prepared for how tight she was. It had been a long while since he had taken a woman like this. Only after half of him entered, he had to stop and check himself. It was not for her benefit, but for his. He let out a curse as he held his head back and looked at the ceiling. It felt good, extremely good. His groin was tight. His legs flexed. Then she opened her damned mouth and brought Kieren back to the job at hand.

“Is that all you have?”

Without hesitation or mercy, Kieren held her steady and jammed the rest of his cock into her. The sound she mad was one he had never heard before. He liked that. He hoped that it hurt, that she would recoil from it only to have a small portion of his strength keep her still. He liked making her body take all of him. Her stretched hole looked like it was something new, no longer what it was, as he claimed it. His strokes were long and his descent was strong. His fucking was brutal, animalistic. His own breathing deafened him to whatever she was groaning out. He did not want to acknowledge any pleas. Kieren did not care about her pleasure, only his own.

Kieren took what he needed. One hand grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. He rammed himself in her so hard that her ass slapped against him each time he bottomed out. He wanted her to take him until he felt it was enough. He was an expert at controlling his longevity. If he desired to hold himself back, to delay his ejaculation, it was exactly what he did. Once again, he did it because it pleased him. He continued to steal pleasure from her. Kieren reveled in the feel of it. Her ass grabbed at him and pulled. Each time it did, he pulled back and then pleased himself once more. If she wanted to be treated like a slave, he enslaved her to his cock.

When he was ready, he let go. He discharged everything he had with one last push. He closed his eyes and held himself within her. Only after feeling completely drained did he drag himself from inside her.

Iona had never come before. She did not know what it was or how powerful it could be. If she had to describe the ecstasy he gave her through his forceful administration of pain, she could not. There was nothing in her limited world that would equal it. No exact word that could capture it. All she knew was while he pumped inside of her, she squirted out proof of her pleasure. It was so much that she thought she had wet herself, but knew that she had not because it was an unrecognizable relief. Besides if she had, one time would have been enough to empty her. When she closed her eyes because she could not stand it anymore, she saw brilliant colors. They were sharper than the ones of a rainbow. What brought it on, or caused her to say words that she did not recognize, came from him.

He was the God standing over her with thick blond hair and a body made for what he had done. As he pulled out, she felt like doing nothing but serving him. No matter what she could do, Iona felt like it would not equal what he had just given her. She lay there in her own wetness with him oozing out of her, lost in a dream world.

She felt him lean over her until he was at her ear. He then began to talk in a low, menacing voice. The words he spoke next held no threat. They were facts that he would not fail to act upon. They were seeped with the power that had already been proven and power beyond her knowledge. What had been displayed did not begin to touch it. Kieren’s words were deadly, worse than the feel of any arrow from the strongest of bows. Kieren aimed for the center and, as expected, he hit his mark.

Iona understood that she was being given a pass, but there would be no more. Her fear was stronger than the fear he had given her earlier. It promised to take her life and left her torn open—raw. She already felt dead inside.

“A dog that bites the hand that feeds it should be put down. I advise you to watch your tongue from this moment forward. I will not hesitate to remove it with a swiftness that you will not detect until I place it in your hand. Do not presume to know me or judge the depth of my experiences. You would not like what you might find on just the surface. Do not for one moment think that what marks me is any of your concern. Concern yourself with keeping your life, for I can take that even quicker than the taking of your tongue--without thought or conscience. You would not be missed, especially in this world and possibly in the next. Consider yourself blessed by whatever God you bow to that you have not received even a sliver of what the markings on my back weigh. If they give you thought, it would be wise to not look upon them ever again. You have turned something meant to be my good deed into a punishment unto itself. Do not be misled; I am not the receiver but the giver of punishment. I chose to let you believe that it could be any other way. No more. Prey that I do not issue it to you. On all things, my ability to tolerate you is nonexistent. What would possess you to believe that I would bother myself with the thought of fully using something that has no use? How could something empty and broken hold anything for me? Of what satisfaction could you possibly give? The answer to these questions has revealed itself already. When I need comfort or warmth I go where it exists. There is none to be found inside you or outside of you, and especially between you and me. Never forget what I say to you today, for I shall not. Trust this.”

With that he removed himself.

To be continued…