Chapter 8: B Story
Freydis's cell was a symphony of pain and humiliation when the door creaked open, admitting the cold night air and the three figures who had haunted her dreams since her capture. Harald, Erik, and Ragnar sauntered in, their confident strides echoing the power they held over her. The torchlight flickered, casting their towering forms in stark relief, their shadows dancing macabrely on the stone walls.
Harald approached first, his blue eyes gleaming like ice as he took in her disheveled state.
"You've been a naughty girl, Freydis," he said, his voice a low growl. "Disobeying my orders, causing trouble. You know what that means, don't you?" "Yes, Master," she spat, the title bitter on her tongue. "Good girl," he murmured, his hand reaching out to cup her chin.
Freydis flinched at his touch, but she didn't pull away. She knew better than to displease him further. "Now, let's see what we have here." He released her chin, his hands moving to the ties at her wrists. He undid them with practiced ease, her arms falling limply to her sides. Her muscles burned from being held in the same position for so long, but she gritted her teeth against the pain, refusing to show any weakness.
Harald reached for the hem of her tunic, pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion.
Freydis stood naked before him, her body marked with the welts and bruises from earlier encounters. He took his time, his eyes roaming over her, a slow smirk spreading across his face.
"You're a pretty thing, aren't you?" he mused, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast. Freydis bit back a retort, her gaze locked onto his. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm.
Erik and Ragnar moved in, their hands rough as they grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back.
Freydis struggled, but their grip was unyielding. She could feel their erections pressing against her, their breath hot on her neck.
Harald watched, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Feisty tonight, aren't we?" he said, his voice a low rumble. "I like it. You're wrong. I won't break.
I won't beg. I won't yield. --- Freydis's defiance was met with a chuckle from Harald, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "We'll see about that," he said, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Erik, Ragnar, secure her to the post." The two Vikings dragged Freydis across the cell, her bare feet scraping against the cold stone floor. They pushed her against the sturdy wooden post at the center of the room, her back pressed against the rough wood.
Erik and Ragnar worked together, binding her wrists above her head with rough rope, pulling it tight enough to make her wince. Her feet were next, her ankles secured to the base of the post, spreading her legs wide and leaving her completely exposed.
Harald approached, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in her bound state. Freydis glared at him, her eyes flashing with defiance.
"You think this will break me, Viking? You think these ropes, your whips, your cocks will make me yield? I am Freydis, daughter of a jarl, and I will never break."
Harald chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Strong words from someone in your position," he said, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast.
He stepped back, his eyes roaming over her bound body.