Chapter 12
Lorna
I sank to my knees on the padded leather, the position now feeling almost natural after everything my Herra had done to train me.
My skirt was still bunched around my waist, and I could feel how wet I was, how desperately my body craved release after what felt like a week of denial.
The forced orgasms at the horrible meeting felt somehow like they didn’t count—as if they had made my need for a real master’s permission, along with his dominant hands and his hard cock, all the greater.
In front of me, Aksel settled into the wooden chair with that precise grace I’d come to recognize, his steel-gray eyes never leaving my face as he began to unfasten his belt.
“You’re going to tell me everything that happened at the Synergy Group meeting,” he said, his voice carrying that quiet authority that made my insides clench. “Every detail you can remember. And while you speak, you’ll use your mouth and hands to pleasure your Herra.”
My eyes widened as he freed himself from his pants, his thick cock already hard and imposing. “But I… I don’t know if I can concentrate while…”
“You’ll find,” he said, tangling his fingers in my hair and guiding my face closer to his massive manhood, “that serving me properly will sharpen your focus. The submission opens pathways in your mind, just as it does when I fuck you. Now begin. Tell me about the meeting while you learn to worship your Herra’s tól. ”
The idea seemed impossible—how could I possibly recount complex details while I did that? But Aksel’s hand was insistent in my hair, and I found myself leaning forward, my lips parting to take him into my mouth. The familiar taste of my Herra’s tól, salt and musk and power, flooded my senses.
“Use your hand at the base,” he instructed calmly. “And your tongue along the underside. Good girl. Now tell me—what happened when you arrived?”
I pulled back just enough to speak, my hand continuing to stroke him. “Horakovsky was waiting in the same conference room where he’d disciplined Mila before.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, husky and breathless. “Brenteuil was there too, with papers spread across the table.”
It was strange—very strange—but somehow the necessity of pleasing the rigid shaft that jutted arrogantly up from my Herra’s lap relaxed me…
as if having that task of shameful adoration took my mind away from the anxiety that the memories of the meeting raised in my head and my heart.
At the same time, as the images of the mortifying, lewd scene presented themselves to my inner sight, I felt myself responding with dismaying need between my thighs.
“Take me deeper,” Aksel commanded, pressing my head down. I relaxed my throat as he’d taught me before, accepting more of his length. “Continue.”
I bobbed my head, establishing a rhythm, and to my amazement, the odd feeling of relaxation continued, and even deepened. The physical act of serving him seemed to crystallize my memories. Details I hadn’t consciously registered came flooding back with startling clarity.
“Mmm,” I hummed around him, then pulled back to gasp out, “There were two other men by the door. Guards, but not ordinary ones. They had military bearing, Russian special forces maybe. One had a tattoo on his neck—Cyrillic script.”
“Excellent observation,” Aksel praised, his fingers gentling in my hair. “You’re accessing your unconscious memories. Keep going.”
I took him deep again, my tongue swirling around his shaft, and more details surfaced.
Between strokes, I gasped out fragments of memory: “Horakovsky mentioned a naval officer. A name, Krueger. Something about Arctic shipping lanes.” The words spilled from me in rushes between taking him deep in my throat.
“The documents on the table had coordinates, but I couldn’t see them clearly from where I stood. ”
“And then?” Aksel’s voice remained controlled, though I could feel the tension in his thighs beneath my hands. “What did Horakovsky demand?”
I hesitated, my rhythm faltering. The memory of what had happened next made shame flood through me so intensely that I pulled back completely, gasping. “He… he made Takken tell me to undress. In front of everyone.”
“Look at me while you continue,” my Herra commanded.
I raised my eyes to meet his gaze while my hand continued stroking his length.
“I was naked, completely exposed. He commented on how I was… bare. Down there. Like you’d ordered.
” My face burned at the admission. “Then he had Katya and Mila—his… his pleasure girls—he had them come in. They were wearing nothing but garter belts and stockings.”
“Pleasure the tól while you tell me the rest,” he said, guiding my mouth back to his cock. “Use your tongue the way you did just a moment ago. You’re learning very quickly.”
I took him deep again, my tongue working along the sensitive underside as more memories surfaced with disturbing clarity.
When I pulled back to breathe, the words tumbled out: “He whipped Katya with a riding crop. Bent her over a chair and lashed her bottom over and over while I watched. The sounds she made…” I shuddered, taking him deep to avoid finishing the sentence.
“And what did you do?” Aksel’s hand tightened in my hair. “Tell me exactly.”
I pulled back, tears pricking my eyes. “I… I mean… I couldn’t do anything. Horakovsky made Takken hold my wrists behind my back. Made me watch. And then… then Horakovsky ordered Mila to kneel in front of me.”
“Continue.” The single word held such command that my mouth opened automatically to take him again.
Around his thickness, I tried to form the shameful words: “Her… her master made her use her mouth on me. Her tongue. I tried not to respond, Herra, I swear I tried, but I’d been edging all week like you commanded, and I was so sensitive, and she was so good at it, and—”
He pulled me off his cock abruptly, his hand fisting in my hair to tilt my face up to his. “You came.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded miserably. “I couldn’t stop it. I’m sorry, Herra, I tried so hard not to, but with everyone watching and Katya crying out from the crop and Mila’s tongue on my… I just couldn’t… and then… then they made me masturbate in front of them, and I came again.”
“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down my cheek.
“You had no real choice, little one. Your body was primed from a week of denial, and you were put in an impossible situation. Horakovsky orchestrated it to humiliate you and Takken both.” His grip in my hair gentled, becoming almost tender. “I forgive you, my sweet v?lva.”
The relief that flooded through me was so intense I sobbed, pressing my face against his thigh. But even as gratitude warmed my chest, something darker twisted in my belly. The shame of what had happened, of how my body had betrayed me in that conference room, felt like acid in my veins.
“But I…” My voice came out broken, muffled against his leg. “I still failed you, Herra. I came without your permission. Even if I couldn’t help it, I… I think I should be punished.”
The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and the moment they left my lips, I knew they were true.
Some part of me craved the absolution that only his discipline could provide.
The strap across my bottom, the burning reminder of my place—it would wash away the confusion and self-doubt that had plagued me all week.
“Look at me,” Aksel commanded.
I raised my tearstained face to meet his gaze. His eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“You’re asking to be punished,” he said, not a question but a statement of fact. “Tell me why.”
“Because I need…” I swallowed hard, searching for words to explain the tangled knot of emotions in my chest. “I need to know I’ve paid for it. That you’ve forgiven me properly. With your hand, your strap. I need to feel owned by you again, not by what they did to me.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “Such a good girl, learning to ask for what you need.” He stood abruptly, his cock still hard and glistening with my saliva. “Come.”
He led me to a dark corner of the room I hadn’t focused on earlier. There, something large stood, covered with a dark cloth. With one swift motion, he pulled the covering away, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was a massive piece of carved oak furniture, of a design I’d never seen before—but whose shameful use seemed immediately apparent to me.
Its shape, its leather padding, its curves…
and the leather straps attached to it, for binding the limbs of the thing’s occupant.
It seemed terribly old, thoroughly worn, the wood polished smooth by centuries of use.
Norse knot work covered every surface. My stomach clenched with nervous anticipation as I pictured myself straddling its top, helpless to keep the image from filling my mind’s eye.
“This bride saddle belonged to my ancestors,” Aksel said, running his hand along the curved wood with reverence.
“Fifteen generations of Sons of Odin have used it to train their bed thralls.” He turned to me, his expression serious.
“You’ll be bound to it, whipped for your transgression, and then I’ll claim your r?vhul.
Through that combination of punishment and violation, you’ll ascend higher into Yggdrasil than you’ve managed before. ”
My entire body trembled at his words. The thing I’d been both dreading and desiring all week was about to happen. My most private place would be breached, claimed, while I was bound and helpless. The thought made me clench so hard I whimpered.
“Strip,” Aksel commanded, already moving to adjust something on the bride saddle. “Everything off. Then come here.”
My hands shook as I removed my rumpled clothing, letting each piece fall to the fur-covered floor.
The collar around my throat seemed to pulse with warmth, and somehow I thought I could already feel that strange clarity beginning to creep in at the edges of my vision.
When I stood naked before my Herra, he guided me to the saddle with firm hands.
“Mount it,” he said, helping me position myself over the curved wood. “When you are on my saddle, you are both rider and steed.”
The leather padding was soft against my inner thighs as I spread myself wide to accommodate the saddle’s width. My bare pussy pressed against the smooth surface, already leaving a shameful mark of wetness.
Aksel reached over me, then around me, efficiently binding my wrists to iron rings set into the wood in front of me, forcing me to lean forward slightly.
Then he secured my ankles to the base, spreading my legs even wider until I felt completely exposed, my bottom raised and presented.
The posture left me utterly revealed, unable to close my legs or shield any part of myself from his gaze or his touch.
“Perfect,” he murmured, running his hand over my raised bottom. “Now, you’ll receive twenty strokes with the strap for coming without permission. Count them.”
I heard him retrieve the leather strap from somewhere behind me, and my whole body tensed in anticipation. When the first blow landed across both cheeks, the fire that exploded through my flesh made me cry out.
“One!” I gasped, my hands clenching uselessly against the bonds.
The second stroke fell immediately below the first, and I sobbed out, “Two!”
By the tenth stroke, I had begun to wail, my bottom burning with an intensity that seemed to radiate through my entire being.
But something else was happening too. With each impact of leather on flesh, I felt myself rising, my consciousness beginning to separate from my body even as the pain kept me grounded in the physical moment.
“Fifteen,” I whimpered as the strap caught the tender spot where bottom met thighs.
The collar grew warm against my throat, and suddenly the wooden beams of Aksel’s hús began to shimmer and transform.
Silver branches materialized around us, growing from the bride saddle itself, reaching upward into impossible heights.
I was ascending even as my body remained bound, climbing through Yggdrasil’s infinite canopy while the strap continued to fall.
“Twenty!” I screamed as the final blow landed precisely across my sit spots.
“Good girl,” Aksel said, setting the strap aside. I heard him moving behind me, and then felt the cool touch of oil being drizzled between my burning cheeks. His finger circled my bottom-hole, spreading the slickness, preparing me for his enormous manhood. “Now your Herra will mount you.”