Chapter 7: Tests and Allies
The tent was filled with the sound of leather striking flesh, the crack of the crop, and the soft thud of the flogger. Freydis's cries echoed through the space, a symphony of pain and humiliation.
Harald watched, his eyes gleaming as he took in her suffering. He was seated at the end of the bed, his legs extended, his fingers drumming a rhythm on his thigh. He was enjoying this, Freydis realized, her stomach churning with disgust and anger.
Erik and Ragnar worked in tandem, their strikes precise, their movements almost choreographed.
Freydis's body was a canvas, her skin painted with lines of red, her cries the soundtrack to their art.
"Twenty," she gasped, her voice ragged, her body shaking with the effort to hold back tears. Harald had not moved, his expression impassive, his eyes never leaving her. He was a statue, a god watching his sacrifice. "You're doing well. But we're not done yet."
Freydis's heart sank, her body already aching, her mind screaming for respite.
But Harald was far from done with her. He rose from the bed, his movements predatory as he approached her.
"Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, no more." "Oh, little one," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip.
"We're just getting started." He turned to Erik and Ragnar, who had paused in their ministrations, their chests heaving with exertion. "Switch places," he ordered. "Erik, use the crop. Ragnar, the flogger." They nodded, exchanging implements with practiced ease. Freydis watched them, her heart pounding in her chest, her body already aching from the first round of punishment. She knew what was coming, and she braced herself, her muscles tensing, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Erik stepped into position, the crop held loosely in his hand.
His eyes met Freydis's, and she saw no mercy there, only the hunger of a predator about to pounce. Ragnar took his place on the other side of the bed, the flogger swaying gently in his grip.
Harald moved behind Freydis, his hands gripping her hips, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her ass, and she knew he was enjoying this, feeding off her pain and humiliation.
"Let's begin," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
Erik struck first, the crop cracking against Freydis's inner thigh, leaving a thin, red line in its wake. She cried out, her body jerking against the bonds, her eyes wide with surprise and pain. "Count, little one," Harald reminded her, his thumbs pressing into her hip bones.
"One," she gasped, her voice ragged. Ragnar followed suit, the flogger snapping against her stomach, the leather tendrils leaving welts on her skin. Freydis arched her back, her teeth gritted against the pain. "Two," she hissed.