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Two smiling Vikings hauled the squirming man to the gunnels, grasping his upper arms and bending him on the rail. His mistress examined the scars on his thighs and found that he had been serving her for eight moons. She grinned at him as he begged in a language she did not understand, drew her fish gutting knife from her belt, grasped his scotum, pulled it down and cut off his testicles cleanly and then rammed them into his screaming mouth. Together they pushed him over the side and into the gray sea.
For a minute or so his feet bobbed in the red-dyed waves. The next surplus male was dragged forward to the bloody hatchway and his woman approached with her thin blade in her teeth. Wordlessly she brushed aside his limp cock, grasped his hanging balls and sawed them off, tossed them into the sea and turned her back on the spurting male who had failed to satisfy her twice. Over he went, his cry ending in a gurgle. By then Gerta had selected one of the cowering new boys they had stolen in the recent raid and hurried him to her place with an arm bent behind him, sat him down roughly and shackled him and then called for the sucker.
The toothless old man hurried to her bench, knelt and did his job. It was all that kept him alive, getting men ready to perform their duty. He grinned up at the proud Viking and crawled away, licking his chops. He squealed, feeling as if his cock was going to be torn from his lean body. She held him firmly at the shoulders, her jutting breasts right at his bewhiskered chin and ordered him to thrust, then arching her back and putting a tit in his gaping mouth she enveloped him with a gasp of pleasure and squeezed firmly.
The boy did not understand the word, but he knew what was wanted and rammed his stiff cock up into the big woman hard and fast, the bloody sights he had just witnessed fresh in his frightened mind. For more than a week, he had waited his turn, hoping he would be able to satisfy one of the lusty Vikings.
He groaned as their flesh slapped together, and he rubbed his tongue over her jutting nipple and sucked it as hard as he could, straining his belly muscles to thrust again and again and again. On each penetration he felt his young manhood being squeezed by powerful interior muscles, but every recoil was much easier as the fleshy tunnel relaxed and quivered, preparing for the next heaving invasion, the next pleasurable sundering, the next fierce copulation.
Then she galloped him, bouncing them both off the wooden bench. It was a ride the boy thought might never end, one that would leave him with bruised buttocks and thighs. He thrust again and again, determined to survive and crying out in fear and effort, feeling his climax nearing. Gerta saw the look in his eyes, felt his hard maleness swell in her and stepped away, dragging his long, hot penis from her healthy cunt, its thick lips rippling.
The boy spurted twice, ribbons of sperm that fell to the bench he sat on. The woman patted his cheek and put his hands on the oar at his hip. She hoped he would be as good than the kona she had just fed to the tossing waves, the one with the wonderfully curved organ who simply wore out. The old sucker came and licked up the spilled sperm, including a thick streak on her muscular calf, one of his jobs on the boat, one of the ways he survived.
The frightened boy understood that he had been accepted as a sexual slave and dedicated rower on this big Viking craft manned entirely by frightening women, fearsome women who carried heavy swords and who demanded sexual homage from the males they captured and put to work. He also knew how his life would end unless these women were defeated or their boat crumpled on some unseen rocks. Even then, since he was chained to his post, he knew he was doomed and all he could do was delay his fate. Deep in his mind, he had to admit he had enjoyed the woman, enjoyed the frenzied rutting, and he knew that as long as he did that well, he would live and be fed.
He was sure he could survive on gruel, fish and sex for the rest of his days. Greta stood, adjusted her thick belt and looked down the wide aisle of the longboat where the men bent over their heavy oars, her jutting breasts still tingling from their attention, her puffy sex lips quivering, oozing, wanting more. The sleek ship had rounded the cape and they were headed into a protected cove and toward what appeared to be a prosperous fishing village with cottages spread well up the steep hillside.
The fair-haired captain called herself Vixen, a name she had taken from her unfortunate predecessor, the woman she had eviscerated in a fair fight for leadership on her third voyage when she was barely eighteen winters. After they bowed, arms wide spread, she had one lie on the dock, his massive member upright in his fist, and she lowered herself on him, squatting and swallowing up his wide rod with a fixed smile on her face, and then the other archer opened his heavy harness and drove his huge cock up into her raised ass.
The other women and slaves watched in awe as she exhausted them both in her muscular body and then had the youngest new slave brought forth to clean her furrows with his tongue. That boy was the one she now slept with, rolled together in her soft, goose-down sack, his head between her thighs and his young prick often in her lips. Shall we try for at least another half dozen here?
Vixen smiled and tousled the fair hair of the boy who knelt grasping her leg, his talented tongue well up into her tireless slot, always seeking, from front or back, keeping her constantly aroused. Two or twenty-two, my friend, it matters not. She suckles them sometimes. She had the board that day.
But Mistress I think we miss some good candidates who are too frightened to get erect, to lay their manhood on the measuring board. It has been used since the time of the old ones, of the sagas. We want no little pricks to goad us on our way. Make sure we do not take any over the age of twenty if you can, not unless they are like those two black ones back there. She thought of the two big archers and their prodigious rams, curiously tattooed cocks that belonged now to the young captain and only to her.
Perhaps, if she did well, she could beg for one as a hylli. She poured herself a cup of mead, drank it down and squinted at the nearing shoreline. Rocks splashed near the fast-moving boat as two-dozen rowers bent their backs. Several big stones bounced off raised shields, one struck and splintered a railing and then the captain hurried to the stern and took over the steering herself as balls of Greek fire mounted from the shore.
The narrow dragon boat skidded along the ledge and the raiding party scrambled ashore while the ship was still moving, screaming war cries and flashing their blades, faces streaked, breasts bare and painted nipples jutting, trying to look like bezerkers. A half dozen screaming killers in leather skirts with round shields on their left arms and their unbound hair streaming behind them charged toward the thin line of frightened defenders.
Most ran. Two men with spears stood their ground and were chopped down and dismembered on the waterfront while the rest fled, crying for mercy and pushing their families before them. Mercy was not one of the things these female raiders knew.
They seldom killed women or children but they quickly owned the market, leaving several merchants dead on the stones, he rolling in the gutters, and their fellows and a few slaves were quickly there behind them gathering baskets of food and supplies while the armed women rounded up a dozen or so young men in the village square.
They made them strip despite the cold wind and demanded that they use their hands to get their penises hard. The women sheathed their bloody blades and stood grinning at the youngsters they had found, most of them full grown and showing pubic hair, a good haul that would surely please their insatiable captain. She went from boy to boy, grasped their stiff cocks and laid them on the red board. If they measured up, she yanked on their hard members, and they were led aside, squealing for mercy.
If they did not, she cuffed them and sent them off to hide with the others up on the hillside. The five young men whose pricks were long enough were dragged to the jetty with their meager clothes in their hands and loaded on the ship along with the food and cloth from the market. Long oars pushed the boat out into the bay, the patterned linen sail shuddered up the mast and the drakkar was soon gone, a bad memory and the source of horror stories for a century or more in that tiny village. With six raiders and only five new males, Gerta stood aside while her compatriots enjoyed the spoils of their brief fight.
The woman set aside their heavy arms and sat on the benches in the stern, each with a stripling on his knees between their strong legs. There were few men abroad who did not feel the whip at least once a day and all bore scared butts and shoulders. Once the raiders were ready for coitus, their quivering folds thoroughly slicked and their vaginas teased and aroused, the boys were brought upright on their knees and pulled to their main task.
Soon all five youngsters were sucking and fucking, urged on by hard slashes to their backs and thighs. The toothless sucker brought them bowls of gruel and cups of barley ale, whispering comforting words to each. The rowers had watched this performance in fear. Twenty-four men sat on the benches and now there were five youngsters in chains. It meant that some of them, they knew, would soon die, died horribly, unmanned and drowned by their merciless mistresses. It did not take long for the first exchange to be made.
As soon as the ship cleared the sheltered harbor and the fluttering sail took hold, two women dragged a startled rower from his bench, bent him over the rail and watched with wide smiles as his grinning mistress castrated and emasculated him, opened his belly with a backhanded slice and pushed him over the side. She did it slowly and carefully, enjoying the process and making him climax twice before she was satisfied and shackled him in place, patting his shaking back.
Once they were in the open sea, Vixen left the stern; sure her two big men could man the steering oar, and went to assess the young men gathered in this brief foray. When the raiding party was ashore, the captain had taken her ease with her massive archers, exhausting each one in turn on her sleeping mat while the tow- headed boy watched and played with himself. She stood before the new ones now, hands on hips, her long hair blowing wildly in the wind, her big nipples fully erect in the cold, rivulets of thick cum oozing down her legs. The two followed her to the bow where she grasped the handles on the side of the dragon figurehead, spread her long legs and pointed at one dark-haired young man.
The boy shook with fright as he took his place behind her, despite himself aroused by her obvious beauty, stood between her wide-spread feet and stroked himself hard. He thrust up into her with a moan, his buttocks tightly tensed and rove his rod in to the hilt, to the balls. He had often mounted two girls in his village and was preparing to marry one of them soon, but he had never experienced anything like the clasping, muscular vagina that he now strove to sunder, the heated body that seemed to suck him deeper and deeper.
Despite the cold, he was quickly sweat drenched and then his thighs and belly muscles began to cramp as he gasped for breath. Fear gathered in his guts. She locked her feet on the round steps behind her and spread her knees, smiling at the lad as her labia quivered open, obviously wet and ready. The boy, his face deathly white, struggled to his feet and stared at the lusty woman, knowing what he must do. His excited penis softened and flopped as fear spread through him.
He grabbed it and stroked, whimpering. It was no good, the big woman who had used him only a half hour before had taken too much out of him. He had ejaculated four ribbons of his semen on her and into her mouth, and he had no more to give. He had been a virgin and now he was frightened, frightened and worse, suddenly impotent. Spattered with gore, the captain stepped aside as the body fell at her feet. You must be logged in to post a comment. Search for:. Related Sex Stories: Sexual frustration story at the local pet shop Two daughters plot the demise of their mothers Old south sexual abuse of a slave by his master A couple in love, both like sex and indulge in it frequently Blowjob guide.
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