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Odin she was tight! She was slick with dew. She did want him! She did!
                  He pressed his finger in and out of her while working his thumb on her most sensitive spot. He hoped to open her enough so that it would not hurt when he speared her with his shaft. He eased another finger inside her and she whimpered.
                  There was no hope for it. He would tear her asunder the first time he took her. Unless, he practiced this slow, maddening torture for a month!
                  At the very least  he would bring her pleasure first. And he would make her say that she wanted him. Any moment now…
                  Esme shuddered in his grasp, her walls undulating against his finger.
                  Would that it were his cock!
                  "Oh!"
                  She tossed and turned in his arms. Clearly she was not yet finished. So he continued, pushing her further and further up the mountain of pleasure they had build together.
                  At last she started to shake uncontrollably, suddenly falling limp in his arms.
                  Now, now he would have his pleasure of her.
                  He lifted her gently and carried her to the bed.
                  Magnus reached down to pull his clothes off when he heard the delicate snore.
                  His thrall was asleep.

Nine
     
     
     
     
                  Esme woke up feeling wonderful. Her body was sore but rested as she stretched in the unfamiliar, large bed. She opened her eyes, realizing almost instantly that she was not in her home.
                  Nay, she was in his home.
                  Magnus, the leader of the Viking hoard.
                  She swallowed nervously. She was undressed, as naked as the day she was born. The last thing she remembered was the extraordinary pleasure he'd given her with his hands and lips. Her cheeked burned with embarrassment. And yet, he'd kept his word.
                  He had not ravaged her.
                  She looked around the room, seeing that she was alone.
                  It was already late in the day judging from the light.
                  Yet the Viking had let her sleep.
                  She slid from underneath the furs covering the sleeping platform and looked around for her dress. The room was empty. The rough dress was gone.
                  "Looking for something?"
                  Esme gasped and pulled one of the furs in front of her bare body.
                  Magnus was standing in the wide doorway staring at her. He walked forward, holding out a folded crimson cloth.
                  "Here."
                  She reached out for it, her eyes wide. It was a soft wool dress. This fine fabric would not irritate her skin, that much was certain.
                  "I- thank you."
                  He grunted and turned away.
                  "Come. Tis time for the mid day meal and I would have you serve me."
                  "Aye- yes, m'lord."
                  "My lord? I like that. But you may call me Magnus."
                  He pulled the curtain aside and looked back at her with a smirk.
                  "You pleased me well last night thrall. The dress is your reward."
                  Her cheeks filled with heat as she lifted the dress over her head hastily. She smoothed it down over her curves where it skimmed her body, neither too loose nor too tight. She'd never had anything so fine in her life. Esme was confused though. How had she pleased him? Twas he who had pleased her in fact!
                  Oh! Did he mean that the way she had shivered in his arms?
                  She found her