Part 1 here

Part 2 here

'Viking' language bits are actually Icelandic or Norwegian, if you want to use Google Translate to see what's being said. ;)

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Esla threw a hand over her mouth as her stomach lurched again. She tried to breathe in deeply, but was met only with the stench of sweat and worse things.

It had been four days since Ulfvaldr had shoved her onto his boat. Esla cursed her own stupidity as she hugged her arms into herself. Why would anyone agree to be someone’s slave, just because they had good sex? She let her head hang down into her arms, the boat swaying wildly again on the waves she could hear beating against the wood. Her mind wandered back to the day her village had been attacked.

After agreeing to go with the Viking who had sprung upon her in the barn, Esla had expected maybe a little kindness from him after what they had shared. Instead, she had gone to sleep next to him as he stroked her hair, only to be rudely awoken so early the sun still hadn’t risen. Clothes rammed on, and then marched down to the waiting boats at the wide riverside. Esla had taken a moment as Ulfvaldr stopped to speak to a crewmate to look back at the remains of her village. It was gone. A smoking, crumbled heap of wood and screams was all that was left, the smell of blood and burning flesh hanging in the air like a curse. Not that she had time to look sadly upon it for long. Ulfvaldr had then pushed her, along with the other villagers who had been taken as slaves of some form, into the longship and forced her to be tied up with the others. He laughed at her when she tried to pull away, reminding her she had chosen this.

Esla scowled at the reminder, reaching down to tug uselessly at the rough rope snared around her ankles. It was red and sore after so many days tightly wrapped around her skin, made worse by the salty air of the sea. The others from the village were the same, but with a sinking heart, she realised there was no one there she recognised well. All of them were either sobbing or staring into nothing with a blank expression, accepting of their fate. Esla glanced up again, her eyes flicking wildly at the fresh landscape rolling into view. For days it had been nothing but endless sea and rocking, rocking, ever rocking and forcing her to tip her head over the side more than once, to the amusement of the Vikings on board.

Ulfvaldr laughed with them, sat at one of the oars occasionally and pulling with strong arms as he watched his captive, sometimes joining in with raucous and lewd-sounding songs. Other times he had simply come over and tried to stroke her hair again. The last time, Esla had tried to bite his hand. He had merely smirked at her and chuckled.

The boat finally stopped swaying. The waters were calm once more, but the chill in the air rolled under her woollen tunic and made Esla shiver. She gasped as the longship glided past tall mountains, more jagged and raw than those in her own soft, green lands where the only undulations were rolling hills. The very peaks of some of the mountains were covered in a light dusting of snow, despite it being late summer, but the dramatic beauty of the dark blue water against the green forests and sharp mountains took Esla’s breath away.

She was so entrenched in staring at what would become her new land that she didn’t notice a shadow falling across her. Esla snapped her head back as she felt Ulfvaldr’s presence next to her, narrowing her eyes at his piercing gaze. He had thrown the wolf-skin cape back over his head and shoulders, but she could tell he was grinning anyway. “How do you like your new home, little rabbit?”

“It’s in one piece, unlike my village.”

A raised eyebrow in response. “I didn’t hear you complaining about us razing your church and homes to the ground when you were writing and moaning underneath me.”

Esla’s face flushed at his words, and she tried to ignore the pointed stares from a few of her fellow villagers. She gritted her teeth, choosing to ignore him as she stared down at the wooden boards of the longship. The boat glided along for a few more minutes in relative silence, but Ulfvaldr’s feet never moved. There was a gentle bump that made Esla snap her head up in alarm, worried muttering coming from the other slaves. They had arrived. She cast her eyes over the crowd of people coming towards them, greetings being shouted over to those in the boat, who gleefully yelled back. The town was filled with buildings made of thick wooden stakes, tall pine trees dotted around, only growing thicker as spring and summer arrived. A forest grew behind the town, taking up most of the enormous mountain that was the backdrop, the top covered in mist and snow.

She didn’t get much of a chance to think about it as Ulfvaldr dragged her to her feet, shoving her roughly to one side as he leant down to flick a knife against the rope holding her ankle. It snapped away, leaving the raw skin underneath free to finally move unhindered. Esla gave a groan as she bent down to rub it gently.

Ulfvaldr watched her curiously, giving a short laugh. “Don’t get too excited. You won’t be able to run far.” He then snatched her hands into his, pulling the cut piece of rope around her wrists before she could pull away. “This should keep you close.” His tone sent a dark thrill through her, a reminder of the last time he had restrained her. His hands worked quickly, his calloused fingers sliding over her skin in a silent promise. Esla reprimanded her body as the touch sent sparks shooting into her core. He wrapped the rope twice around her wrists, keeping two of his fingers beneath it as he tightened the knot on top. It was surprisingly comfortable, but tight enough to stop her escaping.

Resisting the urge to spit at his smug face, Esla contented herself with a scowl. “Where would I run to, anyway? Looks as though you Vikings don’t have much to contend with against our grand Abbeys and palaces.”

“Oh. We’re going to be in that mood, are we? Very well.” Ulfvaldr’s eyes glinted, enough to make Esla swallow hard. He took the end of the short piece of rope tossed around her wrists, dragging her with him as he made his way to the edge of the longship. One of his crew mates nodded towards Esla and said something in their native language, to which Ulfvaldr paused and turned to stare at her for a moment, before giving a short reply. He turned back and continued off the boat. The burning stare of the crewmate on her back made Esla’s skin crawl.

She staggered to keep up with Ulfvaldr’s long strides as he set off into his town, her arms stuck out in front of her. “Wait - what did he want?”

“You.”

Her blood ran cold, and had Ulfvaldr not been dragging her across the mud track up to the town walls, she might have stopped dead. “Me?” Her voice was a squeak.

“Yes. Sometimes slaves are shared. I said no.” Ulfvaldr gave a smirk. “For now, anyway.”

Esla nervously glanced up at the faces milling past her, all of them seeming to stare in her direction. She felt more vulnerable than ever, and it was humiliating to be forced to walk along in her dirty clothes with her hands bound. Lowering her voice, she muttered to herself, “So now I have to worry about other Vikings on top of not even being able to wash.”

Ulfvaldr stopped abruptly and glared down at his captive, his face obscured by the wolf pelt. Her heart skipped as she dared look up. “Why...why have we stopped?”

“You appear to be ungrateful at my treatment of you.”

People pushed past them as he stared intently at her, and Esla squirmed under it. Her palms grew sweaty, her stomach squeezing nervously. When she tried to look down further, Ulfvaldr snatched her chin and yanked her head up, forcing her to look at him. “When I talk to you, little rabbit, I expect you to look at me,” he growled.

The tone of his voice made her insides melt, and Esla wanted to curse her body for responding so easily. Fighting against the urge to look away, she forced herself to gaze into his eyes, shaking her head as best she could against his grip. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m just...I wish I could be clean.”

“Clean?” The word was spat out.

The few days of pushing him away on the longship and spitting at him had created a problem. Esla could feel she had gone too far, somehow, but she couldn’t stop herself. Licking her lips, she stammered, “M-My clothes. They smell of...of death and smoke, and I-I don’t like wearing them like th-”

Before she could stop him – not that there was much chance of that happening – Esla was pushed up against the nearby wall of a cabin. Someone laughed as they sauntered by, but she didn’t know if they were laughing at her or something else. Gripping the straps of her pinafore, Ulfvaldr yanked them down, hard. She gave a cry, trying to twist away, but the Viking gave a growl and slammed her hard back against the wood. “No. You don’t like your clothing? Then don’t wear it.” He reached up for her underdress, expertly pulling on it so hard the laces holding the shoulders together snapped, allowing it to fall forward and expose her breasts to all and sundry passing by off the boat.

Esla gave a short scream, reflexively pulling up her tied-together arms to cover herself, but Ulfvaldr forcibly pulled them down. She trembled, her face burning with embarrassment as some of the men from the ship passed slowly, staring openly at her exposed figure. One of them gave a low whistle. “P-Please, everyone c-can see-”

“I don’t give a fuck. Let them see what a clean whore you are, without your dirty clothes,” Ulfvaldr grinned, obviously enjoying her discomfort. Esla held back a sob. It hadn’t felt like this back in the barn, back when his attention was completely for her. She felt stupid for agreeing to all of this. As if sensing her struggle, the Viking closed the gap between them, hemming her in with his body. She didn’t dare look up. “Little rabbit?” His voice held a warning tone, but it was softer than before. “I want you to understand you are not in charge here, that you do not decide to complain when I have not got you clean clothes yet. But you are my whore, do not worry about that.”

Esla finally felt brave enough to look at him, but she let out a sharp gasp as his rough fingers slid around her left breast and squeezed tightly. Ulfvaldr brushed a finger across her nipple, chuckling as it hardened under his touch. “Let them see what they can’t have,” he whispered hoarsely, nodding over his shoulder towards his crewmates who were watching. He fisted his other hand in her hair and pulled her head to one side to expose her neck, ignoring her sharp cry as he ran his tongue in a long, wet line along her skin. “All the time on the ship, I had to listen to them talk about how they would fuck you. It bored me. It would bore you, too. And so, they don’t get to know how delicious you taste.”

She tried to ignore the throb his words sent through her, biting her lip as she glanced over to the two men staring at the scene. They were visibly breathing heavily, their mouths hanging open. Esla’s breath hitched in her throat as she noticed how aroused they were through their trousers and tunics. Ulfvaldr gave a snarl against her throat, the licking becoming a stinging bite. “Like showing off for them, do you?” The hand around her breast dropped, instead being roughly cupped between her legs. She tried to pull away, a soft moan escaping her lips as Ulfvaldr bunched the fabric of her dress up in one hand, expertly sliding a single thick finger inside her. The skin of her pussy tingled as a gentle sea breeze followed his hand under her skirt, her muscles fluttering against the sudden invasion. “So wet already? You do like giving everyone a show. We’ll see how much of a show you like putting on elsewhere.”

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Part 4 coming up!