1. The Master #2
I waited.
“Good boy, Oli,” Thorsten said. “So good for your master.”
He aligned his cock and drove it inside me with a slam.
The heavens opened—or might as well have—but it was only the sun breaking through a sky full of clouds.
Finally .
Thorsten thrusted inside me hard and deep, lifting me from the altar completely with the force of his pumps, so that only my back against the tree offered leverage. The depth and friction made my insides feel full. Hot. Whole. In that moment, I almost, almost felt free.
I wasn't. And I never would be. The best I could hope for in life was exactly what I had and only that. The mindlessness of having Thorsten take me was as close to free as I'd ever know.
Thorsten’s shadow loomed, blocking the newly unleashed sun.
He might be my master, but I had him just as captive as he fucked me, looking down at my writhing like nothing else in all of Midgard could sate him.
That made me feel freer too, because it was power, however feeble and fleeting.
This was the only power I had over my life, the only time I commanded another in a way they couldn't resist.
Until he pulled out.
Thorsten withdrew his cock just before he came, spun me on the altar so I laid sideways upon it, and released his seed on my lips.
I lapped it up, licking and swallowing every drop.
He would feed it to me if I didn’t, but I loved that taste.
I loved knowing I made it happen. I made him come.
I had some power here… didn’t I? One small modicum of control that allowed me to affect something in my life.
But making him want me, making him come, was where my power stopped.
Thorsten brought me his hand to have me lick what had caught on his fingers.
I did, lying like a lamb for slaughter, an offering to the gods, naked and still hard.
Thorsten made no move to aid me, and if I touched myself without permission, he’d tie my hands behind my back with my belt and leave me here until sundown.
He had done so twice before, and only the second time had I managed to rub out my stolen orgasm by humping the altar.
I’d told myself I loved that too, the denial, the ache, because when Thorsten came back for me, he’d sucked my cock and let me spill down his throat. That was something. That was mine. The hours of solitude had been nice too.
But today, I had no desire to be left waiting, so I remained patient, hoping that Thorsten would show mercy.
“Go on,” he said. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come for me. Slowly.”
Slowly made my legs quiver as they dangled off the altar.
My stomach clenched with the effort to keep from coming at the first touch.
The curl of my fingers around my shaft. The temptation to run my thumb over my slit.
But no. No. If I did that, I would come for certain, and if Thorsten wanted it slow, I had to keep drawing this out until he told me I could finish.
“ Slower .”
I moaned, dropping my head back to dangle from the altar like my legs, and did as I was told.
“Look at me, Oli.”
I tilted my upside-down perspective to face him. He was stroking his spent cock too, stirring it back to life, while watching me stroke mine.
I had some control. I did. Because I had his attention.
Because he wanted me. Because he liked watching me.
I slowed my strokes further without being prompted and let more whimpers and whines spill from my lips—as if pleading, as if in agony.
It was half true. I wanted to come so badly.
Let Thorsten be so entranced by me that he allows me to , I almost prayed.
I dared to pass my thumb over my slit, and the instant need to come made me bite my lip like I might pierce through the skin.
Thorsten was fully hard again, stroking faster, lightning fast compared to me.
I parted my thighs enough to reach with my other hand down to my entrance.
I knew what he needed to hear to grant me what I wanted.
“I wish it was stuffed with your come,” I said.
Thorsten seized me, spinning me back the way I’d been, propped against the tree, and slammed back inside me. I took that for the permission I needed and stroked as fast as his hips rammed into me.
Let me come. Let me come .
Thorsten slapped my hand away, and I practically screamed.
“Not until I do,” he warned.
In an instant, my power was gone again. The heat inside me was pulsing tenfold in my cock, begging for that last tumble over the edge with how red and swollen and ready to release it was, yet I was denied. Again .
I sniveled pathetically with every thrust, but all that heat burned in my chest too, ignited with something close to hatred when Thorsten whispered:
“You did ask for this.”
I seethed inside, because I had asked for it, but I only ever got what my masters decided to give. I hated him for that.
Having come already, it took several more minutes before Thorsten came again, this time filling my hole. He stayed inside me, pumping slowly into his mess, as he said, “Come. Come while I have you full to bursting like you asked.”
My hand had never found my cock faster. I pumped with abandon, and it took but a few mad strokes before I finally, finally—
“Ah-ahh!” My cry as I came was loud enough that birds flew from the treetops.
I hated as much as I loved how good that was.
Thorsten turned me again, an offering on the altar.
I could barely move, let alone resist. He presented me with his cock to lick it clean.
I didn’t resist that either. When he was satisfied, he did up his trousers.
I waited to be told I could do the same, leaking out his second release onto the cool stone.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better farewell.”
“Farewell?” I blinked at him, my mind a haze.
“Not a forever farewell, but I’m afraid our trysts won’t be as frequent.” Thorsten smoothed a hand over his blond fringe. “You’ve been sold.”
“What?” Dread burst in my chest as I swung upright, hatred replaced with white-hot fear. No. No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. My life was only tolerable because I had this. Without it… “Thorsten—”
“You have been sold to our neighbor, Erik, son of Gunvald. Why do you think I was so generous?” He grinned, like he had done me some great favor fucking me one last time, only to throw me to the wolves. “The family of Gunvald are our close friends. I will still see you.”
“Still see me?” The fear did not replace my hatred, I realized, but matched it. “Like a prize stallion you visit after it’s been put out to pasture!”
“Oli,” Thorsten chided like I was some young pup throwing an unnecessary tantrum instead of equal to him in age.
What did he know of fear, of panic, of being so low in station, that being treated as a cock-sleeve was a blessing, even if you could never say no.
“You are hardly out to pasture at twenty-one. You’re just…
broken. Well-ridden. Best leave you to your chores now, eh?
It’s your last time tending to this altar.
And it definitely needs to be cleaned. I am going to miss having daily access to that hole. ”
He tilted me backward enough to slide two fingers inside me, twirling them and thrusting into his come.
I whimpered. I fucking whimpered , because it felt good where I was tender and contented to have been filled, even if the fire in my chest told me to bite this pot-licker’s nose off his smirking face!
He kissed me, and I clenched my teeth to prevent any entrance of his tongue.
“Oli, don’t be like that. You know you’ll miss me too.” Thorsten thrust his fingers inside me once, twice more, and then scooped out some of his come to feed to me.
If I was already sold, I would risk punishment and kept my mouth shut.
Thorsten’s smirk fell, but he didn’t look angry. He might have even looked sad. Likely he was just disappointed at not having me to himself anymore. For him, it was an inconvenience. For me, I might as well have been cast into Hel.
“It wasn’t my decision to sell you, I swear. I will miss you, Oli.”
Asshole , I thought, because he could still stir me to affection for him, my once friend, oft lover, and harsh yet somehow tender master. But that was why I hated him, because he was content to condemn me to a life unknown, when at least this one had been one I could bear.
Thorsten dropped his hand, wiping his fingers on his trousers, and lifted my chin with the other to kiss me again.
I allowed the tangle of our tongues this time, because it was farewell.
Even if I was still so angry. And terrified.
Thorsten’s family I knew. I knew of the neighbors, but not how they treated their thralls.
I had no idea if I would be used by one of them, or many of them, like I was used by Thorsten, or if I would be worked to exhaustion in other ways until I was old, my beauty gone, with no fight left in me at all.
I never really fought now. I hadn’t the luxury. And all my luck had run out.
“Take your time,” Thorsten said. “They aren’t coming for you until the evening meal.”
“Why? Why am I being sold?” I demanded.
“An exchange. Mother wanted another woman in the kitchen. Erik asked for…” His pause filled me with dread again, knowing what he’d say before he finished, “for our prettiest man.”
Then I would be used, and maybe not as kindly as when it was Thorsten.
“Take your time,” he said again, and walked down the path away from the altar.
I almost considered fleeing. But where was a runaway thrall to go? I couldn’t survive on my own in the elements, and no free family would take in an escaped slave.
There was a cloth among my clothes, one I brought with me to wipe away the dirt and leaves and other messes left on the altar. It worked well for cleaning myself too, which I did so numbly before donning my trousers and tunic.