2988 words

                            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."