Mastered By the Viking King by Lily Harlem

Chapter 10

“Njal…” Tove’s stomach flipped at the warning tone of his gravelly voice.

“You were told not to touch that box.” He snapped the curtain shut and stormed into the room.

“The boys, they—”

“The boys are not here.”

“But they were playing, running, then the table was knocked, the box fell, and I had to—”

“You had to do nothing!” he roared.

She startled and gripped the box tighter, her breath catching in her throat.

“You should have left it where it lay.” He snatched the box from her. “I told you I did not want you tarnished by her ill ways.” He dumped the box on the table again.

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry does not undo this crime.” He gripped her wrist. “Nothing can undo this crime. You have touched her tainted treasure.”

“Oh… but, Njal.”

He dragged her to the bed, sat in the center, and hauled her over his lap.

Instantly, Tove knew what was to become of her, or rather, what was to become of her poor behind. “Please… no.”

“Aye,” he said, dragging at her pants. “You are going to get a severe spanking. You will feel my hand on your rear over and over again. It will burn as bright as the midday sun in summer.”

Her bottom was exposed. She trembled and clutched the furs all around her. Njal’s lap was hard beneath her belly, her bottom ready for the punishment.

She squeezed her eyes closed and braced for the first spank.

It came, hard, the air stirring a moment before his palm connected with her flesh.

She lurched forward and cried out.

“No.” He pinned her to the bed with his free arm. “There is no escape. You have to learn to do as instructed. I demand your obedience.”

He smacked her again, then again, his big hand covering both buttocks. Pain bloomed upon her skin. Her cunny clenching and releasing, heat flaming through it.

Njal didn’t let up. He spanked her fast, hard, and very thoroughly. The intense sharpness of each collision of his hand against her bottom increased, seeping down the backs of her thighs and up her spine in a sharp, hot wave.

“Please!” she wailed. “No more!”

“You will be spanked until I think you have learned the error of your ways, my queen.” He shortened the time between each spank. The harsh sound of his hand raining down on her bottom rang around the room.

Her eyes watered, her nose ran. She kicked her heels up, catching his hand.

“And that”—he shoved at her feet—“will earn your behind more strikes with my hand.”

She fought the urge to kick and struggle as he continued to punish her poor buttocks. She hadn’t meant to touch the banished queen’s treasures. Why couldn’t he see that?

“So, you will never…” Spank. Spank. Spank. “Disobey me again.” Spank. Spank. Spank. “I will not tolerate it.”

“Oh, my king… I am sorry!”

He stopped slapping her ass, and instead smoothed his warrior-worn palm over it.

She juddered out a breath. Was it over? “I did not mean to displease you.”

“But you did.” He slipped his finger through the cleft of her buttocks to her lips.

She froze, her heart hammering, pulse wild in her ears.

“What is more,” he sought her entrance and eased in, “this spanking has made you wet.”

“What?” She tried to turn and look at him, but he held her pinned firmly. “I don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You are not taking this punishment seriously.” He withdrew his finger and resumed the spanking. Slaps rained down again, fast and furious.

“Ah! Please… oh, it hurts.” She writhed within his clasp. Surely, she didn’t deserve such harsh treatment. “It hurts… so much.”

“As it should.” The slaps moved to the top of her thighs, where her flesh met the roundness of her bottom.

The pain was acute. She couldn’t stand it. “No! No! Oh, my king.”

He stopped, and again felt between her legs. He pushed into her entrance roughly. “Wet and wanting,” he said gruffly. “And now wanting will be part of your punishment.”

He pumped in and out of her, sinking deep each time he filled her.

Tove groaned and closed her eyes. She was hot and quivering and having his fingers inside her gave her something else to think about. “Oh… oh… yes…”

“No! You will not have pleasure. You will crave it, but be denied it.” He withdrew.

Suddenly, she was being hauled upright. “You want my cock, but I am denying it, denying you.” He plonked her on the floor at the side of the bed and stood, his hands on his hips.

She squirmed, her bottom paining her.

“You will not get release. Do not even think about touching yourself.” He glared down at her.

“I won’t, my king.”

“Your stinging, red rump and your denied cunny is your punishment. Do not make me dole out more.”

“I won’t.” She locked her fingers and held them beneath her chin. “I promise I won’t. I am sorry.”

“Perhaps I am starting to believe that you are.” He picked up the box with the dragon clasp then strode to the curtain.

“Where are you going, Sire?”

“To drop this in the fjord. I should have done it before you ever arrived at Halsgrof.” He set his huge hand over her head and forced her to look at the floor. “Do not move. Stay there, looking down until I return and give you permission to do otherwise.”

“Aye, my king.” She held in a sniff and a sob. Had she ever felt so small?

Njal stormed from the room, anger and frustration bristling in every step.

The curtain snapped closed.

Tove allowed the tears to come then, until they sluiced down her face. She was so sorry that she’d upset her husband. But had her crime really deserved such a cruel spanking? Her bottom was on fire; she was hovering it above her heels as she sat there on her knees.

She cried and cried, dashing her hand over her cheeks. She should never have touched the dragon box. She should have left it where it lay when Knud and Frode knocked it to the floor. She’d been thoughtless and stupid.

Eventually her tears abated and a sense of disappointment with herself and her actions hung around her like a heavy cloak.

Outside, the townsfolk went about their business amid the din of shouting and haggling, the clomping of horses’ hooves, dogs barking. A horn sounded, signaling the arrival or departure of a longboat.

Tove didn’t feel part of that world. Curled up on the floor on a carpet of furs, she didn’t dare move. Her life as queen and wife to Njal put her in a different realm from everyone else. Yes, she could instruct and command, but she was also subject to her king.

“Tove. My queen.”

She risked a glance up. “Wanda.”

“Oh, what has happened?” Wanda rushed forward, her arms held out, worry etched upon her face.

“I… I…” Tove barely knew how to start explaining what had happened. Another sob clogged her throat.

“He reddened your behind, didn’t he?”

She nodded and looked at her knees again. “Aye.”

“What did you do to deserve that?” Wanda dropped at Tove’s side and brushed a strand of her hair from her cheek.

“I touched the banished queen’s dragon box.”

“Oh, dear, that would have made King Njal very angry. He believes it holds bad luck.”

“I know, but it fell. The boys, they knocked it off and…”

“Shh, my queen. It is done now. The king does not hold grudges. Now that you have taken your punishment you can put the matter behind you.” She paused. “Where is he?”

“He went to throw the box in the lake.”

“Best place for it.”

A cold draft whispered again Tove’s cheek.

“I have returned.” Njal’s deep voice rang through the room.

“My king,” Wanda said. “I have drawn fresh water for the queen to bathe. May I take her?”

He strode over and held his hand out to Tove.

She took it and he tugged her to standing.

“You have learned your lesson to obey me at all times?”

“Aye, my king.”

“Good.” He stroked her cheek. “Now, go and bathe, and when you return we will not speak of this matter again.”

“Thank you.”

Wanda tugged her away, as if keen to leave the room.

Tove was happy to go with her. Njal was still bristling with irritation.

“This way.” Wanda turned right from the Great Hall.

Tove shuddered and wished she’d grabbed a cloak. Snow was falling, swirling in the air as the wind whipped it into a frenzied dance.

But once they’d passed behind the Great Hall, Wanda ushered Tove into another room, warmth enveloping her.

“What is this?” she asked, coming to an abrupt halt.

Fragrant steam filled the air, making it appear foggy. A large, round wooden tub in the center was full of water. A pipe led in from one wall and out the opposite going through the tub. Fires crackled all around, pots of water hanging over several of them.

“It is a hot spring bath,” Wanda said. “All year round the water from the spring yonder is pumped into the bath and out. It means for warmth, I make it hotter by adding fire-boiled water.”

“I have never seen anything like it.”

“Nor have many people. King Njal had it constructed a few years ago, he likes to bathe.”

“So do I—but it has only been on rare occasions in the winter. Heating water in the longhouse was a lot of effort and the tub had a leak.”

“Now that you are queen, it is no effort for you—except to enjoy it.” Wanda secured the door closed then took hold of the hem of Tove’s tunic. “Let us get you undressed.”

“Thank you.”

Tove allowed Wanda to slip her clothes from her. When her bottom was revealed, Wanda sucked in a breath. “Oh, dear, my queen, that must pain you.”

“Aye.” Gingerly, Tove stroked over the sore skin. “It does.”

“I will add soothing herbs to the water.” Wanda picked up a jar from a shelf. “They will give you some relief from the pain the king’s hand has delivered.”

Tove sighed. “I should never have annoyed him.”

“No, my queen, you shouldn’t have.”

“Did he…?”

“What?” Wanda added a sprinkle of herbs to the water. “Did he what?”

“Spank the banished queen?”

“On occasion—but I fear he is being even more harsh with you.”

“Why?” She frowned. That didn’t seem fair.

“Perhaps he believes if he was harsher with his first queen, if he had demanded absolute obedience from the outset, she wouldn’t have done what she did.”

“You mean her having sex with a wanderer?”

“Aye.” Wanda shook her head. “That is what she did. She was lucky not to lose her head.” She held out her hand. “But come now, into the water, soak away your worries and pains.”

Tove took her hand and stepped in. “Oh, aye, it is warm.”

“And fresh, too. It is constantly flowing, so always changing. You are not in the water the king’s sons bathed in.”

“That is good to know.” She crouched down. When the water went over her rump she froze, wincing as it tormented her smarting skin.

“Keep going,” Wanda instructed. “I promise it will help.”

“What would have been best,” Tove gripped the side of the bathtub and sank deeper, “was if I hadn’t earned a spanking in the first place.”