Chapter 9: War Prize

I tried to scramble up, but Brynhild planted a bare foot on my chest and shoved me back down. The two women loomed over me, not a stitch of clothing between them but their furs, both flushed and panting from the chase.

Sigrid tossed the Tome onto the pile next to my head. “Oh, this is rich,” it bellowed. “They’re going to tear you apart! I’m betting on the ginger.”

I tried to ignore it, but Sigrid crouched beside me, her face a study in wicked delight. She ran a finger down my bare chest, tracing the scar that slashed from my ribs to my hip.

“We’re going to do it right,” she said. “First, we feast.”

Sigrid and Brynhild had already forgotten me in favor of each other.

They came together with the force of a war hammer, lips crashing, teeth clacking, arms tangled in hair and fur and muscle. The sound was obscene: wet, animal, all tongue and hunger. Sigrid pulled Brynhild’s face into hers, biting down on her lower lip so hard I thought it would bleed.

Brynhild growled and shoved Sigrid back, then yanked the wolf pelt from her shoulders and tossed it across the room. They were both carved from the same quarry: broad-shouldered, wild-haired, skin laced with scars and marked with ritual tattoos. Brynhild’s tits were round and high, the nipples already hard as nails; Sigrid’s were a little smaller but set on a chest that looked like it could break a man in half.

They grappled in the center of the furs, Sigrid trying to force Brynhild onto her back, Brynhild twisting to reverse it. They were perfectly matched, the contest so even it looked like they might spend all night wrestling instead of fucking. It was the most violently erotic thing I’d ever seen.

“Oh, don’t just lie there!” the Tome snapped. “This is the opening act! Get hard or get out!”

I was already rock hard, but I wasn’t about to give the book the satisfaction.

Brynhild finally gained leverage and flipped Sigrid onto her stomach, pinning her shoulders and grinding her hips down. Sigrid squirmed and howled, but Brynhild just grinned and reached around to shove two fingers deep into Sigrid’s cunt.

Sigrid gasped, then laughed, then bucked so hard she nearly threw Brynhild off. “Is that all you’ve got?” she spat, voice ragged.

Brynhild didn’t answer, just kept fucking her with brutal, hammering strokes, twisting her wrist for maximum effect. The smell of sex filled the lodge, sharp and animal and making my head spin.

Brynhild leaned over, biting Sigrid on the shoulder, then slithered down her back to bury her face between Sigrid’s legs. Sigrid braced herself on the furs, arms quaking, letting out a ragged growl as Brynhild tongued her with wild, unrestrained glee.

“Gods above,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away.

“You’re next, pretty boy,” Sigrid said, voice muffled by the arm she had jammed against the furs.

I believed her.

Brynhild licked and fingered Sigrid until she shuddered, then rolled her over and straddled her face. Sigrid grabbed Brynhild’s ass, pulling her down and devouring her pussy with the hunger of a woman who hadn’t eaten in days.

Brynhild rode her with abandon, head thrown back, hands tangled in Sigrid’s hair, her clit sliding across Sigrid’s tongue. The slap of skin and the wet noise of tongues and fingers echoed off the lodge’s low rafters.

I couldn’t look away. My cock throbbed in time with their movements, and for a moment I actually forgot I was about to be next on the menu.

Brynhild came with a howl, shuddering and gripping Sigrid’s hair so tight her knuckles turned white. Sigrid kept going, lapping up everything Brynhild had to offer, then flipping her over and returning the favor with even more savagery.

When they’d both come twice, they rolled apart, panting and laughing, sweat gleaming on their skin. Brynhild crawled over to me, eyes locked on my cock.

She grinned, then straddled my hips, pinning me down with her thighs and grinding her slick pussy against my stomach. Sigrid came up behind her, wrapping her arms around Brynhild’s chest and biting her ear.

“Ready to share?” Brynhild asked.

“Only if I get to break him first,” Sigrid growled.

They laughed together, the sound low and cruel and perfect.

“By all means,” Brynhild said, leaning back to present me to Sigrid like a sacrificial offering.

Sigrid crawled up the length of my body, her hands on my chest, then my throat, then my jaw. She kissed me with the force of a storm, tongue forcing its way into my mouth and claiming every inch as her own. I moaned, helpless, and she laughed into my lips.

“Good boy,” she said, then bit down on my neck, hard enough to leave a mark.

I would have answered, but Sigrid had shoved her hand between my legs, squeezing my balls with just enough pressure to send bolts of pleasure and pain through my whole body.

Brynhild shifted her weight, grinding down on my cock, smearing her juices all over it. “Look at you,” she said, voice thick with pride. “You’ll make a fine war trophy.”

The two of them took turns, Sigrid kissing, biting, and manhandling me while Brynhild stroked and teased, bringing me to the edge and holding me there until I was seconds from losing it.

Sigrid sat up, her hair wild around her shoulders, sweat trickling down her chest. “Now,” she said, “we start the ritual.”

Sigrid flipped me onto my stomach, pinning my hands behind my back and using her full weight to keep me down.

What I got was a hot, slick, pulsing agony that started between my legs and burned up through my whole body.

Sigrid dragged my hips up until I was on my knees with my face mashed into the furs, my wrists still pinned at the small of my back in one of her hands. She settled behind me, kneeling over the backs of my thighs, and ground her cunt against my ass, so wet I could feel the heat and slick of it spreading across my skin. Brynhild sat down in front of me with her legs spread wide, hooked a hand behind my head, and hauled my face into her cunt, her thighs clamping my ears.

“You ready?” Sigrid growled.

I didn’t have time to answer before she spit in her free hand, smeared it down the crack of my ass, and shoved a finger in deep, rough and raw. I howled, and Brynhild rode my face, muffling my scream in the thick, feral taste of her cunt.

“Good boy,” Sigrid grunted, working her finger in and out, stretching me open as I wriggled and gasped. The furs scraped my knees, but the real burn was in my core, the sharp, delicious pain as Sigrid twisted her finger and then added another.

“Loosen up,” she said, “or I’ll use the handle of the axe.”

The Tome’s laughter was a guttural bark. “Yes! Show the southlander how it’s done, girls! He can take it.”

Brynhild grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced my face deeper between her legs. She was wild, unshaven, her clit hard as a thumb, her pussy so slippery I could barely keep my lips on her. She ground down and came almost instantly, soaking my mouth and nose with a gush that left me coughing, then laughing, then going back for more.

Sigrid kept working my ass, her fingers relentless, her breath loud and quick in my ear. She pulled out, spat again, and jammed three in at once, making me see white. I tried to buck her off, but she just laughed and rode me harder.

Brynhild slid out from under my face, leaving me gasping, and settled at my side, pinning my shoulder to the furs. Her weight was enormous, all muscle and sweat and hot, shaking need. She licked a stripe from the base of my neck to my spine, then bit down, marking me with her teeth. Sigrid watched with delight, then let go of my wrists and yanked my hips up higher.

“You want the war prize?” Brynhild taunted. “Take him.”

Sigrid shoved her fingers deeper, pressed her whole cunt against my ass, and thrust her hips forward. It wasn’t a cock, but it felt like one: her fingers buried in me to the knuckle while her mound ground hot and slick against my ass and the backs of my thighs, smearing her wetness over my skin.

I screamed again, but this time it was half pleasure, half pain.

“Fuck, he likes it,” Sigrid laughed, pumping her hips, slapping my ass with one hand while the fingers of the other stayed buried and curled inside me, her palm hot and slick against my balls.

“Of course he does,” Brynhild said, reaching under me to stroke my cock. “He’s hard as a hammer.”

She was right. I was so hard it hurt, my cock leaking onto the furs, the friction almost enough to make me lose it right there.

“Hold back,” Sigrid commanded. “Not until I say so.”

I obeyed, because what the fuck else was I going to do?

Brynhild stroked me, rough and fast, her grip like a vise. She bit my neck again, then slid around to kneel in front of me, smearing her juices over my face and lips with one hand while her other fist stayed locked around my cock. “Open,” she said, and I did, and she fucked my mouth with two fingers, making me gag and drool all over her hand.

Sigrid rode me faster, grinding harder, her cries growing sharper and louder. She slapped my ass again, then leaned forward to bite my shoulder, breaking skin. The pain was electric, running down my spine and straight into my balls.

Brynhild never stopped stroking, her fist slick and merciless, and when she pulled her fingers out of my mouth she used that hand to knead my balls and tug them down, making me teeter on the edge of explosion.

Sigrid finally screamed, her whole body tensing, and came with a gush that soaked my ass and thighs. She dug her nails into my hips, rode out her climax, then collapsed on my back, panting and laughing.

“Now,” she said. “Now you can come.”

Brynhild squeezed harder, twisting her wrist, and I lost it and shot my load all over the furs and her hand, gasping and writhing in the mess.

Brynhild licked her fingers clean, then rolled me over so I was flat on my back, arms splayed, chest heaving. Sigrid leaned down and kissed me, licking the sweat and blood from my neck, her eyes wild and hungry.

“Not done yet,” she said.

They shifted me again, this time Brynhild on top, Sigrid holding my legs apart. Brynhild had the biggest strap-on I’d ever seen, fashioned from some kind of cured leather and bone, the tip polished smooth from use.

“You ever taken a real one?” she asked, voice low and terrifying.

I shook my head, eyes wide.

“You will now,” she promised, lining up and pushing in slow, stretching me open with a pressure that was somehow worse and better than Sigrid’s fingers.

The burn was incredible, but the pleasure was even more. Sigrid stroked my cock as Brynhild fucked me, both of them chanting in time with the thrusts:

“Skullcrusher! Warprize! Take him! Break him! Make him ours!”

It was a song and a curse and a promise all at once. The pain faded to heat, the heat to need, and I was pushing back, fucking myself on the leather cock like it was the only thing I’d ever wanted.

Sigrid cheered me on, alternating slaps and strokes, her laughter ringing in my ears.

Brynhild fucked me hard and deep, her abs flexing, tits bouncing as she pounded me into the furs. I lost track of time, lost track of everything but the sensation of being filled, owned, used.

When Brynhild came, it was like a thunderclap, her whole body shaking, sweat pouring down, hands digging into my hips. She pulled out with a wet pop, then collapsed beside me, laughing and breathless.

Sigrid cuddled up on my other side, her arms wrapping around my chest, her lips at my ear.

“You did good, rabbit,” she whispered.

“I can’t feel my legs,” I admitted.

“You’ll get used to it,” she said, nibbling my earlobe.

The Tome was still cackling, muttering something about “proper research” and “the art of conquest,” when the lodge door creaked open.

Felix stepped inside, smiling like he’d just won every bet in the world.

“Well, well,” he said, taking in the scene: the two naked warriors, me sprawled and leaking and broken on the furs, the air so thick with sex it was practically visible. “Room for one more in this war party?”

Sigrid and Brynhild both grinned, beckoning him closer.

“I knew you set this up,” I mumbled, too exhausted to do anything but watch.

Felix knelt beside me, running a hand down my ruined chest. “You looked lonely,” he said, then kissed me, slow and careful, his tongue tasting of honey and smoke. “Can’t have my favorite rogue getting all the attention.”

Sigrid and Brynhild shifted to make room, and Felix joined them, stripping off his tunic and revealing the hard, perfect lines of his body. He was already hard, his cock long and elegant and impossibly tempting.

He slid between my legs, lifting them onto his shoulders, and pressed the tip of his cock against my stretched, sensitive hole.

“Ready?” he asked, eyes burning with excitement.

I nodded, unable to do anything else.

He slid in slow, careful and smooth, his hands gripping my hips with surprising tenderness. The pain was still there, but different, more bearable, more intimate.

He fucked me slowly at first, letting me get used to the sensation, then picked up speed, hips slapping against my ass with each thrust. Sigrid and Brynhild took turns kissing me, licking sweat from my skin, biting and stroking wherever they could reach.

Sigrid straddled my face, Brynhild took my cock in her mouth, and Felix drove into me so hard he shoved the whole pile of us across the furs, until I came again down Brynhild’s throat, clenching around his cock.

Felix held back until the last possible second, then came with a shout, filling me with his heat, his body shuddering in perfect harmony with mine.

When it was over, we collapsed in a heap, tangled and spent, the furs beneath us soaked with sweat and semen.

The Tome of Wanton Desecration let out a satisfied sigh, its eye drooping in contentment.

“Now that,” it said, “was a proper fucking.”

I couldn’t argue. I didn’t want to.

For a while nobody said anything. The fire popped, and Brynhild snored like a bear with a head cold. Felix traced slow circles on my hip, and Sigrid lay on her back with one arm flung over her eyes.

“I broke the door latch this morning,” she said, half to herself. “Just pulled it, and it came off in my hand. I didn’t even mean to.” She huffed through her nose. “My temper’s been running hot lately. Hotter than it should. It’s annoying.”

“Maybe you need more sleep,” Felix said, very mildly, in a voice that gave away nothing at all.

“Maybe I need to hit something.” She rolled onto her side and threw a leg over mine, and she was still warm, almost feverish. “Not you. You’ve had enough.”

I said nothing. I was thinking about a locked iron safe in the storage tent, the one Felix had told me Bjorn put the rings in, and about three little gnome-made rings sitting in the dark in there. I looked at Felix over Sigrid’s shoulder. He looked back at me, violet eyes steady, and then he went back to tracing circles on my hip.

I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the rafters, and I started thinking about what I was going to do.