Chapter 4
Elina
“All good?” Asbjorn asks, pausing the steady rhythm of the flogger that has pulled me into a trance.
“Yes,” I say on a long breath and lick my lips. He hasn’t said anything for a while, and it takes a moment for my brain to wake from the hibernation it seems to have gone into.
“Ready for the next flogger?”
“Um.” I pause, and it makes him chuckle.
“Did you even realize that I’ve been building intensity?”
“What? No. Maybe.” Shit, my brain doesn’t seem to be working properly, and uncertainty infiltrates my voice. “I’m not sure. I guess I...” I trail off, not knowing how to describe the weird haze that has settled over my brain.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Asbjorn puts the flogger away to place both hands on my shoulders. He steps close—so close I can feel his heat radiating into my skin. “I think you’re already subbing out a little. That’s a good thing. You’re very receptive.”
“Subbing what?”
He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear, sending small shivers down my suddenly very sensitive skin. “Subbing out. Going into subspace. It’s this floaty space, where you kind of detach from the world around you. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
I take stock of my body. My limbs feel a bit heavy, and my mind is surprisingly calm—no thoughts coming from ten different directions like they usually do.
“Yeah,” I say, a smile forming on my lips as I soak up the delicious sensation.
“Are you good to continue?”
“Yes, please.”
He hums as if pleased with my response, then trails a hand down my spine as he steps back.
This time, when he starts again, I notice the flogger is heavier. The sensation seems to go deeper, but it’s still just warm. No pain. And the steady rhythm lulls me deeper into the floaty trance, making me lean further into the cross.
Time ceases to exist as Asbjorn flogs me, and my already diminished awareness of my surroundings fades further as I become suspended in time and space.
All I feel—all I hear—is the strands of the flogger smacking against my ass, sending deep trails of heat into my muscles, awakening a simmering desire that has me gasping and even moaning.
Asbjorn whispers soothing words as he goes. “Good girl,” and “That’s it, just give in. You’re doing so well.”
He intensifies the rhythm and the force of the strikes gradually. At one point, it even hurts.
“Ouch,” I gasp. But the pain is only a flicker before a rush of heat rises in its wake.
Asbjorn pauses, then chuckles. “I was about to ask whether you’re good to continue, but this says it all.” He strokes a hand over my ass, and it’s only then that I notice that I’m pushing it out in open invitation.
Heat flushes my cheeks, but I quickly forget the embarrassment as Asbjorn continues, building the intensity once more, up and up.
“Are you ready for the next flogger?” he asks. “This one will hurt. Not badly—you’re warmed up—but it goes quite deep. I think you’re ready for it.”
I swallow and shift a little against the cross. But the movement is slow; all strength seems to have faded, leaving me hanging against the leather-bound frame, gripping the chains only to keep the cuffs from pulling too hard on my wrists.
I can’t even imagine stopping now. My whole body is in a pulsing state of desire. But the desire is not just sexual. Heat is swirling at my core and surging between my legs, but most of all, it’s the desire for more of that delicious heat that blooms in my skin with each strike of the flogger.
I’m about to say yes when steps sound somewhere in the distance.
That’s when I notice there’s no more chatting or whispering in the background.
It’s just the music. Self-consciousness rushes over me, and I squirm, my blurry brain suddenly spinning as I try to hone in on my surroundings.
It takes a scary amount of effort, and unease creeps up on me as I realize where I am.
Bound and vulnerable, alone in a strange new place with a man I’ve only met once before, and people watching.
“Wha—I-is someone here? Watching?” I try to turn my head, but Asbjorn steps behind me, blocking my view.
“Only one person is here. Everyone else has left. No big audience. Don’t worry. Just focus on me.”
No big audience. But there is an audience?
I want to ask more questions and lean away and see. But then Asbjorn starts stroking my sides, my back, and my arms. The motion is firm but calm. Insistent in a way that draws all my focus and melts my very bones.
“What time is it?” I ask in a slurred voice. I feel drunk—only much better than alcohol-induced drunkenness.
“Do you have somewhere you need to be? An early day tomorrow?” Asbjorn asks close to my ear.
I scramble through the mess of my brain, then shake my head. “I’m just… I don’t know.”
“Do you need me to stop?”
“I don’t know. I—No. But…”
“I know it’s scary, but I’ve got you, Elina. You’re safe here. I’ll get you home tonight. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ve got you.”
His words hit straight into some instinctive part of me that craves to give in. Tears spring to my eyes. I don’t know why. I’m not sad. It’s just so overwhelming. And I want more—more of him and more of the flogger. More of this steady calmness that engulfs me in a warm hug.
It’s a struggle just to think. But I don’t think I should try.
I’ve already been at the mercy of Asbjorn for a while, and I feel safe.
More than I ever have anywhere else. It seems irrational.
I’ve only known him for two nights total.
But the steady and gentle way he handles me beckons me to give in and trust him.
So I do just that.
“I want to continue,” I say. “I’m scared, but I don’t want to stop.”
“What is your safeword?” There’s a slight rasp in his voice that seems to hint at something more.
It scares me, but drives my desire even so. “Raven,” I say.
“Good girl.”
I feel him turning his head—maybe nodding—and then the music becomes louder.
I didn’t notice the music much before, but suddenly it’s all around me, the deep beats of the drums seeping into my bones like a second heartbeat.
A surge of something powerful floods me.
With a whimper, I slump against the cross in utter capitulation, accepting that neither my body nor my mind wants control.
So I let him have it. Asbjorn. The powerful Viking.
Asbjorn steps back, and I inhale deeply, steeling myself for the first strike with the heavy flogger. It lands with a force that reverberates through my entire body, pushing me into the cross and knocking a hard breath out of me.
“Ah,” I cry, tightening my grip on the chains and widening my stance for more stability.
I expect Asbjorn to ask whether I want to stop, but he simply trails his hand down the curve of my spine and over my ass. I think he reads the answer on my body, because he swings the flogger again.
Pain blooms in my flesh. But not just in my skin. The force rings deep through my muscles, hot and throbbing. I cry out, dropping my head as I struggle to process the sensation. Asbjorn places a hand on my back, offering some much-needed stability.
It only takes a moment before the pain shifts. In its wake comes an intense flush of heat. It’s like a drug through my blood. I want more.
“Please,” I whisper. I part my lips to form more words, afraid he’ll think I want him to stop, but my brain refuses to cooperate. “Please,” is all I can say.
Asbjorn leans close to my ear, and a delicious shudder rolls through me at the sound of his deep, raspy voice. “Such a greedy little sub. A little masochist, who loves my flogger.” He hums, then steps back and strikes again.
I cry out, and he pauses to soothe me before he goes again. He continues like this, striking and comforting. There are no more words between us. Just moans, whimpers, and feral grunts—the pulsing music that keeps beating with an insistent, ritualistic pulse.
I feel his desire grow along with mine as he puts in more force and lets out primal sounds of power and desire.
It pulls me deeper into the trance. It’s almost too much, the pain, the heat, the intense music, and this heady power exchange.
I can’t take it, yet I want more. I want to drown in it—let it all sweep me away in the flood.
And so I let it. I forget everything. My modesty, my surroundings, and whatever boundaries I thought I had.
All I feel is the flogger, the man, and the music.
The intensity keeps building and building until I can’t contain it. I start screaming with each blow of the flogger. But it’s not out of pain or desperation as much as it’s the pure overwhelming sensations that need an outlet.
A slow shaking sets in. It starts in my arms, then spreads through my whole body.
I feel something coming. Maybe a breaking point.
I think I might even want it, but at the same time, confusion sets in.
Suddenly, I have no idea what I’m doing or how any of this happened.
Tears break from my eyes, dripping down my cheeks, and I start sniffling.
Asbjorn stops flogging me and reaches up to one of the wrist cuffs.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask.
“You’ve had enough,” he says softly.
Part of me badly wants to go on. The pain is barely even there anymore. It’s just wave upon wave of deep heat. A drug I’m already addicted to. But at the same time, I can’t take any more. I can’t even find it in me to beg him to continue or tell him he’s right. Suddenly, I just want to collapse.
He frees both my hands, then wraps a strong arm around my waist and lowers me to the floor. The shaking intensifies as he curls me up in his arms and holds me close.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening,” I whimper, trying to straighten, but he bands his arms tighter around me and leans his head against mine.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let me hold you.”
Once again, I let go. I have no other choice as the shudders rip through me. It’s a bit strange, being so close to him—a stranger—but it also feels good. Strong and safe. So I sink into him and let him hold me.
It takes a long while before the shaking fades and I finally lift my head, drying a few tears from my cheeks.
“Is this normal?” I ask, a bit shocked at my reaction. And not just the drunken fuzziness and the loss of inhibition. The shaking and the propensity to tears too.
“Sometimes. If the scene was intense. And I daresay this one was. It was your first time, and you went quite deep.”
“Subspace? That’s what you called it?”
“Yeah. It’s rare to go so deep the first time. I very much enjoyed it.” He strokes the back of a finger over my cheek. “I think you did too.”
I bite my lips and nod. Very much.
Asbjorn smiles—a warm, disarming smile that makes it so easy to keep my defenses down and sink back into him. But as I’m about to do so, I notice someone on one of the sofas across the room. I freeze at the sight of Ulf, who’s sitting on the same couch as before.
Heat spreads over my face and down my neck and chest, and my voice goes shrill. “Did he see the whole thing?”
“He did. And I believe he enjoyed it very much.”
“No. That’s just… Oh God.” Shaking my head, I burrow it in my hands. Not him. I was moaning, even screaming, losing all inhibitions.
Steps sound through the room, the volume of the music lowers, and then the steps approach. I press my hands tighter to my face and sink into Asbjorn with an urgent need to hide.
Someone—him—sinks to his haunches beside us.
His presence is as sharp as his stare, a charged energy that dominates the very air and wraps around me.
My breathing quickens, and I start shuddering again.
Shit, I can’t take any more. It’s bad enough knowing that he saw it all.
And now he’s here, in our intimate space.
I want to scramble out of Asbjorn’s arms to get away, but at the same time, Ulf’s energy draws me in, making me want to stay and bask in it.
Unfamiliar hands encircle my wrists. They’re huge, calloused, and so damn gentle I want to crumble.
They slowly pull my hands from my face, and I let them.
I’m breathing hard when I come face-to-face with Ulf’s unyielding gaze.
The effect is even more startling up close.
I damn near lose the ability to breathe, and my entire body stills, caught in the spell.
He doesn’t say anything; he just trails his eyes over my features, soaking up every bared emotion and flicker of stark vulnerability.
Slowly, he lowers my hands to my lap. Then he presses his palms to my cheeks, leans in, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
He lingers, the heat of his lips seeping into my skin, the long braid of his beard caressing my nose.
It’s like a spell. A blessing. My eyes fall shut, and everything disappears—even the man who’s still holding me tight.
For a moment, I’m levitating. And when Ulf releases me, I stagger, wavering on unsteady ground.
I cling to Ulf’s gaze as he gets up, afraid I’ll crash if I let go.
He locks his eyes onto me as he says to Asbjorn, “Take care of her.” Then he gives a slow nod as if saying it’s all okay—he’s pleased with me.
I part my lips, feeling like I should say something—anything—but Ulf stops me with a slow shake of his head. He watches me for a beat longer, almost like he’s checking if I’m okay. Then he turns and leaves.
I stare after him, stunned and awestruck. The way he kissed me felt ceremonial. An anointment. Like I’ve been grazed with divine approval. I want more. But I can’t have it. I know it as surely as I know the sun will set.
Just like the sun, he’s unreachable.
Lea said chieftain, but as I watch him, God feels like the more fitting word. Something about him makes my body respond in ways that scare me. I want to kneel at his feet and drop my head to the ground in utter surrender.
His face remains imprinted deep in my brain for the rest of the night as Asbjorn drives me home and I slip into bed. My dreams are full of sharp blue eyes, calloused hands gripping my face, and ravens flocking around a majestic figure with a long, braided beard.