Trangendered True Story Part 1
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Viking free porn video
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Viking!
By Abe
Aeffe was intently hoeing the little field, preparing for
planting. Too late, she heard the hooves of a galloping horse,
turned, and saw the Dane almost upon her. She raised the hoe
before her, but the huge, mail‑clad warrior snatched it from her
grasp, wheeled his mount, and, with the strength of one mighty
arm, lifted her off her feet. For an instant, she hung by her
braided, blonde hair, and then she found herself thrown face down
over the horse's shoulders, in front of the rider, who rode
bareback. As the horse galloped away, taking her away from home
and family, she could not even cry out, for she could hardly
breathe. Her ribs and belly were compressed with every stride.
The horse was reined in, and she managed a long scream,
hoping someone would hear and rescue her. After all, there was
only one viking raider, but the villagers, if any heard, dared
not show themselves. She felt strong hands around her waist,
lifting her in the air, and then she was thrown forward, against
the horse's neck. She felt her skirt lifted, and she was set
down, astride the beast, the horse's sweaty hair pressed against
her bottom and her inner thighs, its mane tickling her belly,
while her captor's muscular legs pressed the backs of her thighs.
He pulled her arms behind her and bound her hands with a soft
leather strap. She felt his legs move against her, as he
signaled the horse to walk, and, as the rippling muscles of the
horse's shoulders, and her captor's limbs, too, stimulated her
uncovered skin, she felt a strong arm around her waist, and then
higher, across her breasts.
Aeffe had little knowledge of the world beyond her village.
She didn't know that many of the tribes and nations of Britain
had paid Danegeld for protection from random raids, but Devon had
never come under the Danelaw. While the coastline was not easy
to land on, the people prayed every week for protection from the
dangerous Danes, who could appear suddenly from the sea, to rape
and pillage and disappear as quickly as they came. Aeffe did not
know where they went. She had never heard of Byzantium or
Antioch or Tripoli, where blonde Saxons and blue‑eyed Celts
fetched good prices in the slave markets.
The horse picked it's way down a stony path, down toward a
beach. Though she lived but a short walk from the sea, Aeffe had
only seen it once. Young maidens seldom stray far from the
village fields. Aeffe was fascinated by what she saw. A long,
double‑ended ship was drawn up on the stony beach. A dragon's
head topped the stem post. A great tent of hides, ship shaped,
was erected on the beach. The huge man behind her lifted her
from his mount and put her on her feet. The stones of the beach
were uncomfortable under her feet, but a lifetime of going
barefoot made her disregard that. She was thankful that her
skirt fell once again around her legs.
The strong man gripped her bound wrists and lifted, until
Aeffe was forced to bend at the waist. He forced her to walk to
the tent. Inside, a few men lay relaxing, being fed by female
slaves. Most of the pirates must have been out scouring the
countryside. Thirty or more young women, all naked, those who
were not serving, lay on beds of furs. Most were bound, hand and
foot, but lay in repose, as if simply waiting for something to
happen. One, Aeffe noted, was bound tightly, curled up in a
ball. Her ankles were bound to her upper thighs, so that her
weight was on her knees and toes, on bare stones, not a fur. A
rope around her neck pulled her head down, between her knees. It
passed backward, between her legs and buttocks, to her tightly
bound arms, behind her. The woman looked very uncomfortable, and
seemed to be sobbing.
Aeffe felt her hands being released from their bondage.
"Take off your clothes, slave," the warrior commanded. While he
spoke with a strange accent, Aeffe could understand him.
"No," she said, "I am a free woman, not a slave."
Before she knew what was happening, she found herself face
down, her breasts mashed against the stony floor, her skirt
bunched around her waist, and her captor's knee upon her back,
pressing her down. She felt his rough hand upon the tender, pale
skin of her rump, and then a moment of respite.
"Slave," the warrior said, "I am now your master. You will
do as I say, or suffer punishment."
Aeffe shrieked in surprise and pain, as the flat of her
master's dagger blade fell upon her rump with a loud smack. "Be
quiet, slave, and take your punishment bravely," she heard, and
she gritted her teeth, pressed her lips together, to stifle the
involuntayr groans which escaped her, each time the heavy
instrument fell upon her tender flesh. At last, the punishement
ended. "Now, take off your clothes," she heard again.
Aeffe struggled to her hands and knees, then to her feet.
She turned to look at her tormentor. She noted other pirates,
and their slaves, looking at her. One of them had evidently
enjoyed what he saw. He pulled up his kilt, as he sat on the
ground, revealing a huge male member. Aeffe had never seen such
a thing, so unlike her little brother's. The seated Viking
reached out for the nearest slave girl and pulled her down on
him, impaling her with his pole.
The feel of a knife point at her throat distracted Aeffe
from the spectacle. She looked at her captor, saw a sunburned,
bearded blond giant, a face she would never forget. She began to
unlace her bodice.
It was with some embarrassment that Aeffe let her dress fall
from her shoulders and stood, naked, before the viking. She
tried to cover her crotch and breasts, but he swiftly turned her
and bound her hands behind her back again. She looked over her
shoulder at him, and at the others, but no one seemed to be
watching. They evidently were used to naked slave girls, and to
seeing one fucked roughly on a warrior's lap. It was only the
punishment which had interested them.
Her master's voice was close: "Tell, me slave, are you a
maid, a virgin?"
"Yes."
"You will address me as Master." Aeffe held her tongue.
"Is your maidenhead intact? No man has touched you, between your
legs?"
Aeffe declined to answer, until she felt a hard slap on her
buttock, which was especially sensitive, after her beating of
only a moment ago.
"No man has touched me." Slap! "Master."
"Have you ever put your fingers in there? Or anything
else?"
"No, Master."
"Stand there, slave. Do not move." Aeffe stood, her knees
together, her hands bound behind her. She tried to hold them
away from her flaming backside, which still ached from the
beating. "Stand with your feet apart," she was told, and she
moved her feet a cubit apart, standing, proudly, without reply.
She felt a leather strap being passed around her waist, and
it was buckled in back, beneath her bound hands. She looked
down, between her breasts, and saw to her horror an iron
grillwork, a kind of basket, which her master forced between her
thighs and fastened with straps around each thigh, tight straps,
right up against the crease of her buttocks. "You will not
remove this, unless I tell you to." The tight straps, and the
iron, wider than the natural space between her thighs, pressed
uncomfortably on her tender skin, but Aeffe bore the discomfort.
Moving her legs a bit farther apart relieved the pressure on her
tender inner thighs, but increased the tightness of the leg
straps. "You will fetch a much better price, if you remain
untouched."
He pushed her roughly toward a some furs, beside the wall of
the tent. Aeffe had to walk awkwardly, with her feet apart,
because of the iron in her crotch. Another slave lay there,
bound hand and foot, but she hunched herself a little to one
side, to make room for Aeffe.
Aeffe's master began to bind her ankles together, side by
side, but Aeffe cried out, "Master, if you do that, the iron will
scar my flesh and make me less valuable." The bearded giant
scowled at her, grunted something, and retied her with her ankles
crossed, her knees flexed and spread. Aeffe wondered if that was
an improvement, for she could sit, but it would be very difficult
to lie down to sleep, whether on her back, her stomach, or her
side.
Each viking had a personal slave, one thoroughly broken and
trustworthy, to take care of his personal needs. When Aeffe's
master, for instance, did not care to bother going outside to
make water, his slave would hold a bowl for him to piss in. And
she would lick the end of his pisser clean. The master's slave
served him at the evening meal, then ate, herself, and brought
his leavings for his other slaves to eat. Each slave was
permitted the use of her hands, to eat, and was alowed to crawl,
as best she could, outside the tent to relieve herself. Then
each was again bound and left on the floor.
Aeffe could not get comfortable, could not sleep. The other
slave, no virgin, slept soundly. Finally, in desperation, Aeffe
used her bound hands to release the buckle of the belt around her
waist. She tried to position herself so that the iron cage would
fall away from her crotch, but it would not, for the leg straps
held it tight. The ends of the belt, however, did fall in front
of her, and there was no way she could bring them together to
rebuckle them.
Of course, in the morning, her disobedience was discovered.
Her master said nothing. He refastened the belt, as tightly as
he could, so Aeffe felt she could hardly breathe. He untied her
hands and feet, and he, with his personal slave, led Aeffe some
distance from the tent, to a place where the shore was very
rocky. The master forced Aeffe to lie, face‑down on the stones,
and his slave handed him two spears. He bound Aeffe's wrists,
far apart, to the shaft of one spear. He bound her feet, as far
apart as they would go, to the shaft of the other spear. By now,
there were spectators, twenty or so vikings, and at least as many
young slaves. To prevent Aeffe from lifting her body from the
punishing stones, her master used two more spears to spread the
first two apart, stretching Aeffe on a rectangular frame of
spears, as if she had been a curing bear hide.
This time, her master used a leather ox whip, and he applied
it all up and down her body, from her neck to her feet. He even
lashed the soles of her feet, until she doubted she would be able
to walk again. In several places, the lash left livid welts ‑‑
the tender skin over her ribs, under her arms, and between her
legs, and on both buttocks, where the whipping was most severe.
At last, she lost the strength to scream, and they left her
there, conscious only of her pain.
She was dimly aware that the vikings were packing their
tent, loading their ship, preparing to leave. The tide came in;
the cold, salty water splashed over Aeffe's feet. Soon the
breaking waves rushed up the vee of her parted legs and splashed
through the iron grill which protected her chastity. Her
numerous lacerations stung fiercely as the salf water reached
them, and, as the tide came higher still, Aeffe found herself
straining to lift her head, holding her breath with each breaking
wave, lest she drown in the sea water. She almost wished she
would, just to spite her cruel master.
At last, the vikings refloated their ship, and Aeffe was
released and carried aboard the ship. At sea, as there was
obviously no chance to escape, the slaves were seldom bound,
though they were often bound, even tied to trees, when the
vikings made camp on shore.
The vikings had no rowing slaves, as such. When going into
battle, the vikings rowed their own ship, their shields displayed
along the sides, then leapt from their benches to fight. But, on
a liesurely trading run, with a ship full of women, it was easier
to let them row, whenever the wind was adverse, which was most of
the time. With her bruised and scabbed backside, it was
difficult for Aeffe to sit and row. She had to pull her oar half
standing, and the muscles of her back and legs and belly became,
first, sore, and then stronger. Her master joked with his
companions that she would have to be fattened up, before he sold
her.
While rowing, Aeffe was at least warm. When resting, and
there was never enough room to lie down, Aeffe was almost always
cold and wet, naked in the British springtime weather. When,
however, the ship worked its way along the coast of Iberia, and
past the Pillars of Hercules, Aeffe was allowed to wear a cloak,
so as to preserve her precious fair skin from the sun. The
fairer the skin, the better the price, in the Levantine markets.
There was a time when Aeffe was almost jealous, to see her
master fucking the other slaves. There is no privacy on a ship.
His personal slave seemed to enjoy it, crying out how good he was
to her. That seemed to put him off, and he would fuck another
slave three or four times, before going back to his regular bed‑
warmer.
There came a time, however, when her master had drunk too
much mead, and was in a surly mood. He bent Aeffe across a
rowing bench and tried to enter her after hole, which was not
covered with iron. She squeezed her muscles, resisting his
entry, until he took a tent peg and drove it into her. She
screamed, thinking she must surely be bleeding, and she begged
her master to stop. He pulled the tent peg out and replaced it
with his meat.
Aeffe mewled in pain and disgrace, as her master plumbed the
depths of her backside. It hurt, and she was sure her tender
tissues were torn and bleeding. When, at last, the giant
withdrew, he forced Aeffe to use her mouth to remove the blood,
semen, and shit which befouled the viking's meat.
Aeffe never again resented the attention her master gave the
other slaves. They professed to love him. They praised his
manliness, said how blissful it was to have him sheath his manly
weapon in their bodies, filling them, giving them indescribable
pleasure. She hated him.
One slave even proclaimed she was jealous, when their
master, apparently out of boredom, spent a whole afternoon
torturing Aeffe. They had gone ashore, for water and plunder,
and the master had found some stinging nettles. The nettles were
covered with countless tiny hairs, venomous hairs which would
penetrate soft skin, causing a stinging, burning, itch. Master
used his long sword to harvest a bagful.
The master summoned Aeffe and loosened her iron cage enough
to stuff it with nettles. His caloused hands seemed not to mind
them, but Aeffe's virginal female parts flared into soul‑searing,
flaming, pain. The Vikings all laughed, to see Aeffe rolling on
the ground, clutching herself, screaming in frustration, clawing
at her iron‑shod crotch, unable to even to scratch herself.
Later, when she was assigned to row, her master made her sit
on nettles, which again caused her agonies such that she wished
herself dead. She discerned, however, that the cruel men liked
to see her suffer, and she used every bit of her will to keep
quiet, to pretend the nettles simply cushioned a hard rowing
bench.
Near Cyprus, Aeffe was sold to a Syrian slave dealer, who
waited until she had her monthly period, to prove to a buyer
that, at very least, she was not pregnant. He sold her to an
Egyptian, and, when she was visibly with child, the man freed
her, as required by Islamic law, and took her as his third wife.
She bore him a son, his first.
When Aeffe had recovered from her lying in, and was ritually
purified, Mustafa decided to celebrate by buying his wives
presents. A good Muslim must treat his wives equally well.
Aysha demanded and got a magnificent, gold embroidered gown.
Saifa selected a heavy gold chain. Aeffe could not make up her
mind, until...
"Mustafa," she said, "would you buy me a slave of my own?"
"Of course, my love, if that's what you want. Perhaps I
could find you a nice girl from Gaza, or Arabia."
"No, honored husband," Aeffe replied, "I want that one."
She pointed to a filthy hulk of a man, chained to others
no cleaner.
"My lovely," cooed Mustafa, "they are captured pirates, fit
only to row the galleys."
"I want that one." She pointed to her former master, who,
even had he bothered to look, would not have recognized her
behind her veil, with her blonde hair covered. "Mustafa. there
is no one here who speaks my native language. That barbarian
does. And he could hoe the garden, and carry water from the
well, allowing me more time to nurse your son. Please, Mustafa?"
"Very well. Insha'Allah, if I can, I will buy him for you.
Of course, he will have to be..."
"Oh, thank you, dear husband," Aeffe gushed. "Think of it,
a eunuch of my own."
[END]
If you think this ending is just too cute ‑‑ "...a eunuch of my
own." ‑‑ I have appended an alternate ending.
... hair covered. "My husband, you know that one of my jobs
is driving the horse who turns the mill. So often, I feel it
offends Allah to be cruel to the animal, my whipping him to keep
him working. Would it not be better to save your horse and use
the infidel instead? Allah would not count it against me, if I
whipped a kaffir."
Mustafa smiled and said, "I am so pleased that you display
such piety, such charity. Of course, you are right. It is
harram to mistreat an animal. Insha'Allah, I shall buy that
kaffir today, and the angels shall record it to your credit."
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