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skalding hot
If you are not of legal age in whatever state you live in, back out now
and forget you were ever here.
The is my own work. It may not be posted to any other website other
than the Fantasy Train site, without my permission and please do not claim
it as your own.
To find out more about the Fantasy Train and the stories, go to
http://www.asstr.org/~MariaGonzales/fantasy/fantasy.html
***
"Skalding Hot"
by Souvie
Chastity gasped as Luke kneaded her thighs with his powerful hands. Her
love mound was wet and dripping and she squirmed on the bed, anxious for
him to possess her. He slid his meatmuscle up the inside of her thigh
and then entered her in one smooth stroke. A perfect fit, just as she
knew it would be. It was heaven....
"Oh God, I can't read anymore of this!" I closed the book and looked at
the half-naked woman on the cover. If her were any perkier the
nipples would be poking her in the nose. Disgusted, I tossed it across
my compartment. I hated being confined.
Not that my confinement was self-imposed. Well, it was, but it wasn't
my fault, not really. How was I supposed to know that I would get
motion sickness from riding a train? It's not like I'd ever been on one
before. Of course, I'd never traveled through time before, either, so
maybe that had something to do with my queasy stomach.
Curse the fates! I was supposed to be having fun, meeting fellow
writers, seeing sights that would cause any history buff like myself, to
have wet dreams. But had I gotten to see anything other than the inside
of my train car? Oh nooooooo. Just me and my tawdry romance book
obsession. Now even that was wearing on my nerves, which was saying a
lot.
Looking around, I had to admit that the sleeping car I'd been given far
exceeded my expectations. Comfortable and roomy, it reminded me of a 4
star hotel. The one extravagance was the hot tub Louie had grudgingly
supplied for me. Long, decadent bubble baths were another obsession of
mine and I'd had plenty of time to indulge.
In all honesty, I couldn't say that I hadn't met ANYONE else on the
train. If you didn't count the guy that brought me my meals every day,
I'd had the pleasure of meeting Miss B`and Shon. I have to admit also,
that Miss B` intimidated me at first. Talented, intelligent women with
long hair and teasing blue eyes always have that effect on me.
Within five minutes she had me so at ease, I felt like I'd known her for
months and I wondered why I had ever been nervous to begin with.
Shon...whew! He had tapped on my door late one night, wanting to know
if I had any saran wrap. I didn't ask and he didn't volunteer. I was
almost tempted to tell him he could have it, only if I could hear him
scream my name out in ecstasy....almost. I hate being the shy quiet
type around strangers!
"We've got ta get ya out of here, lassie."
"AIEEEEEE!!!!" I must have jumped a good two feet into the air. It
took a minute until my breathing returned to normal. "Louie don't scare
me like that ever again! Haven't you heard of knocking??" I gave him my
best 'you should be ashamed of yourself' look. Seeing his unrepentant
grin, I could tell it wasn't working.
"Here ye sit, day in and day out. I know yer sick, but come on. Yer
givin` me conniptions. I have an obligation ta see that ye have a good
time. How can ye do that if yer cooped up in yer room the whole trip?"
He looked so pitiful, I couldn't hold back my laugh. He did have a good
point. What was the use of joining this trip if I was miserable the
whole time? Getting out and walking around just might help calm my
traitorous stomach, too.
"All right, Louie. The next stop, I promise I will get off the train
and try to enjoy myself." I hurried on at his look of triumph. "I said
I would try. I make no guarantees."
"That's good enough for me, lassie. We'll be stopping in a few hours
now, iffin I'm not mistaken."
"Dare I even ask where?" If he said Puritan New England during the Salem
witch trials I was gonna be pissed. With my luck I'd find myself tied
to a stake faster than I could say "John Proctor". I crossed my fingers
and looked at Louie expectantly.
"The Danelaw, roughly 929ad."
Vikings? Raping and pillaging and plundering, oh my! "Louie! I could
just kiss you!"
I caught but a fleeting glimpse of the smug look on his face before he
disappeared just as suddenly as he'd appeared. I didn't care. I
didn't have to wear black and look pious, so I was happy. Now, to dig
up something appropriate to wear....
***
Louie will pay for this, I thought to myself. As I maneuvered myself
through the muddy streets of Jorvik, the Viking Age town of York, I
plotted foul and nefarious ways to get on our sneaky host.
There was no doubt in my mind that he was responsible for the outlandish
costume I was dressed in at the present. Demure Viking maid my ass!
The only thing demure was the flimsy scarf that was covering my
reddish-brown curly hair.
I glanced down and readjusted my halter top for the hundredth time. It
must have been at least three sizes too small. While I felt like I'd
fall out at any moment, I couldn't deny that it pushed my up and
out, better than any bra I'd ever seen at Victoria's Secret. They were
still no where near reaching Maria's proportions, but still pretty
impressive. The long, flowing skirt that seemed to be made up of
several scarves sewn onto a wide leather belt, at least covered my legs.
That is, it did when I was standing still. Every time I stepped
forward my legs were exposed to mid-thigh, and sometimes beyond. I
looked better suited for a slave role in the next Star Wars than a
visitor to the land of marauding Norsemen.
"Yer headed the wrong way, Souvie."
"Shit!" I stumbled and almost fell. I wondered if Louie did that to
everyone. Snuck up on them. "Go away," I mumbled and then corrected,
"No wait! I want to have a talk with you about..."
"Ye're dressed right for the part," he interrupted. "Donnae be
grumbling about it."
"What part?" I smelled something fishy and it wasn't me. I was
fastidious about hygiene.
Louie actually sighed. "I knew ye'd just wander about the city, not
having any real adventure, so I arranged for it meself. I have me
reputation as a host of this Fantasy Train to think about, ye know."
"What adventure, Louie?" I ground out between clenched teeth. I looked
around to see if anyone was staring at us. A Leprechaun on the streets
of Jorvik couldn't be an everyday occurrence, but no one seemed to be
paying us any mind. Must have been some sort of invisible spell or
something. That had more tricks up his sleeve than David
Copperfield.
"We'd better ta be walkin` while I explain." He started off toward the
center of town. I could have been stubborn and refused to budge but the
direction he was heading in, was away from the combined smells of tanned
leather, horses, dung and crated fish. My need to get away from the
stench overrode my inclination to be stubborn.
"Ye're to be the new skald for Eirik Bjornsson. He's a cousin of King
Harald Fairhair and one of the jarls here in the city." He snapped his
fingers and a delicate harp suddenly appeared in my hands. "Ye'll be
needing this, too. Magic, it is. Touch it while ye're telling yer
and they will be just like kittens lapping cream outta yer palm."
"We'll see about that, but first of all, what did you do with the real
skald?"
"The lovely lass is being well entertained by Wijit," he informed me
with a knowing wink.
I wondered if perhaps I was getting the raw end of the deal. "Now, I'm
to be the Viking equivalent of a bard? I'm supposed to tell this Eirik
person a story?"
He seemed to hedge over the questions. "Ye're not telling the jarl a
story,
not exactly. Ye'll be the skald for his whole household. I'd say about
fifty people"
Wonderful! I'm terrified of public speaking. I do it on a daily basis,
to a certain degree, but that is way different than speaking to a bunch
of strangers. Especially in the get-up I was presently wearing.
Just as I was about to tell Louie where he could shove his harp, a
booming voice called across the street, "There you are!" A large
with, long greying hair and several scars on his face approached and
took me none too gently by the elbow. "'Tis about time you got here,
wench. Jarl Eirik doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"No, wait.." I looked over my shoulder but Louie, the little sleaze, had
vanished altogether. Before I could finish my protest I found myself
propelled at breakneck speed toward a large wooden building straight
ahead.
"What's with your clothes? Are those markings on your ankles? Looks like
what the Saracens call 'tattoos'. You must be one of them. Nay, that
can't be. I've heard tell they have hair black as the night. Nay, you
must have been there traveling." Geeze this guy could out-talk even me!
We crossed over the threshold directly into the main hall. Fifty or so
people, my ass! Louie'd screwed me over, the little goblin. There were
closer to 100 and women seated on benches along the walls. The
trestle tables were in the process of being taken apart, so I knew
they'd just finished a meal. Now came the entertainment - me.
Everything was a blur; faces, smells, sounds. All I knew was the smell
of my own fear, saw my insecurities staring back at me; my pounding
heart reverberating inside my head.
The shoved me into the middle of the room where a bench had been
placed. Blindly, I stumbled toward it. Instinct more than anything
else took over at that point; some sense of self-preservation. I
straddled the bench, my legs playing peek-a-boo with the colorful
scarves around them. I hugged the harp to my chest; tangible proof that
I didn't belong to this time or these people.
"Play, skald!" a loud voice boomed. The hall quieted instantly.
I wracked my brain. Play what? I was so tone deaf, my ran and hid
whenever I sang at home. I didn't know enough about Viking history to
do the traditional 'we came, we saw, we pillaged' that these
warriors were expecting.
As my hands unconsciously stroked the harp Louie'd bestowed on me, an
idea sprang to the forefront of my mind. It was just crazy enough to
work. I slid my fingers lightly across the strings of the harp and it
was as if the words filled my head. "In a time long, long ago....
***
Three hours later my ears were ringing from the loud claps, stomps and
whistles of approval from my captive audience. It seems as if my
retelling of the Star Wars saga, using Norse gods and goddesses in place
of the regular characters, wasn't as lame as I'd originally thought.
Standing up and stretching my cramped legs, I curtsied to the crowd and
moved off to the side as some jongleurs shoved the bench out of the way
and started their performance. Someone thrust a horn of ale into my
hand. After choking on the first swallow, I downed the rest. I hadn't
realized how parched my throat had become during my tale.
Just as I was beginning to think I would be able to slip away and finish
my sightseeing, the was back at my side. "The jarl wants a word
with you." Arguing would prove fruitless I was sure, so I shrugged in
resignation and followed him to the dais.
Eirik Bjornsson sat at the head table with the air of a caged tiger. He
perched on the edge of his seat and still managed to be in a constant
state of motion. There wasn't anything remarkable or noteworthy about
his appearance; he looked as most of the other Viking males I had seen
thus far. What set him apart was his presence; an aura of power and
authority that was impossible to ignore. His bright blue eyes seemed to
stare right through me. They were so much like my own, I was momentarily
speechless. To buy myself some time, I sank low into a curtsy. Even
before I rose, he started speaking. No pleasantries, just cut right to
the chase. "Tales of your travels to the land of the Arabs proceeds
you. It has reached my ears that you are a healer as well as a skald.
Is this true?"
Oh well, wasn't this nice? How convenient of Louie to fail to name that
as one of my job requirements. His 'I feel so sorry for you, let me
make it up to you' routine was looking shadier and shadier. I realized
that there was only one answer I could give and not get stoned on the
spot. "I have some knowledge of healing." It wasn't a lie. I was
certified in first aid and CPR. I'd never had to utilize that training,
but they didn't need to know that.
"Excellent"! He turned to the who I'd dubbed 'my shadow'. "Fetch
me Rorik, and be quick about it."
"What exactly do you wish of me, my lord?"
Was it my imagination, or did the hard line of his mouth turn up at the
edges? "One of my closest friends has a problem. His manroot refuses to
rise."
I shook my head, certain that I'd heard him wrong. It couldn't be.
"You're telling me he can't get a hard-on?"
"You use strange words, skald, but methinks you have the right of it."
He hooted with laughter.
"How am I supposed to cure that?" I had a pretty good idea of what he
had in mind, but I just wanted it clarified. I must have been a glutton
for punishment.
He waved a hand negligently. "That is your concern, not mine. All that
matters is that you cure him." He narrowed his gaze. "Know you this -
if you fail, it means your life."
Oh yeah, I love performing under pressure about as much as I love a root
canal. I didn't see any way out of it, though. I was well and truly
stuck-in.
"What is it now?" The voice was low and came from directly over my
left ear. I avoided turning around until I had to. I was sure the
reality would never live up to the fantasy.
"This healer is going to cure your problem."
"Why would she succeed when all the others have failed?" beneath
the apparent indifference, I could detect a hint of resignation. I
fought back the temptation to turn around again.
"Because none of the other physicians have studied with the Saracens,"
Eirik explained testily. "She will not fail. I do not want to see the
two of you again until you can bring me news of your success." Just as
quickly as I'd been summoned, I was dismissed. Now I allowed myself to
turn around.
Holy Thor! He was a good foot taller than me, which put him at over
6'4". His chest was broad and was the first thing I saw. My eyes
traveled slowly upward, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the
curve of his neck and finally alighting on his face. Right there and
then I forgave Louie any and every sneaky little trick he'd played on
me. His face was too angular to be called handsome, with dark,
mysterious blue eyes and lips that were made for kissing. Unlike his
brother, his face was clean shaven and the square cut of his jaw only
added to his attraction.
All that was nice, but it was his hair that was his crowning glory.
Sun-bleached so light as to be almost white, it looked as soft as
dandelion silk. I wanted to bury my face in that hair and see if it
smelled as good as I imagined.
I skimmed my eyes back down, this time noticing the lean hips and
powerfully muscled thighs. His braises fit him like a second skin and
in my mind, I was already peeling them off of him.
I shook myself out of my lustful daydream and caught him giving me the
same amount of scrutiny. Judging from the other Viking women I'd
noticed in the hall and on my walk through the city, I was practically
skinny. Considering I had always been on the plump side, according to
20th century standards, I was thinking that maybe I'd been born in the
wrong era.
His perusal finished, he took me by the elbow and ushered me toward a
doorway. Visions of flea and vermin infested bed furs popped into my
head, and I dug my feet in. He stopped and looked quizzically at me.
"The bath house, I believe it's called. Let's go there instead."
We entered the long structure the Vikings used for bathing, and stood
there awkwardly. I knew this couldn't be easy for him. On the short
walk over, I'd come up with sort of a plan. Now to see if it would
work. I put the harp down and wiped my palms on the scarves of my
skirt. "I know this is a strange situation, but let's make the best of
it. Just try to relax, okay?"
He looked about to refuse, but answered, "Aye." He ran a hand through
his long hair. My own hands were itching to do just the same.
I unlaced the front of his tunic and he bent over so I could draw it
over his head. His chest was all hard planes and springy hair. I took
a step forward and brought my into contact with his chest. I
raised a finger and traced the outline of his lips. "My name is Souvie.
What do they call you?"
"Rorik. Rorik the Hard." He gave a wry grimace at the irony of the
situation and I laughed. I'd always believed a little humor during sex
could be a good thing. I wanted him to relax more than anything. Okay,
I wanted my thighs wrapped around those taunt hips of his more than
anything, but having him relaxed was a close second.
I pushed my finger past his lips and he on it for me. I
in my breath and quickly withdrew the finger. I ran it down his chest,
over and around his nipples and then down to the waist of his braises.
I grinned at him as I unlaced them and knelt to push them down his legs.
He kicked them to the side, and my eyes widened at the sight of his
manhood. He was built, all right. And as flaccid as I'd feared.
I knelt in front of him and had reached out my hand when his "Nay!"
stopped me. I looked up at him. "What are you doing?" he asked.
Oh, please don't tell me that he doesn't know what a is, I
silently entreated. "You've never had a woman's mouth on your...staff
before?"
Rorik hesitated. "Nay. Is this some trick you are pulling? Some of
Eirik's doing?"
"No!" My curiosity had been sparked. "Why haven't you ever done this
before?"
His cheeks actually turned a faint pink! "I...I always thought 'tis
unnatural."
Holy cow! This virile Norseman who looked as if he pillaged and
plundered and raped on an hourly basis, was shy? Of a blowjob? Oh my my
my. I bit back my grin. Was he in for one pleasant surprise. Or
possibly two or three.
I stood up and caressed his cheek, trying to reassure him in some small
measure. "I assure you, there is nothing unnatural about it. It's very
common where I come from." Some people did it more than others, but that
was beside the point. "Why don't you sit on that bench?" I suggested,
pointing to the wall behind him. I pushed on his chest and he backed up
until his knees bumped against the edge. He sat down, looking at me
with a mixture of lust and distrust.
I gave him a teasing grin and knelt in front of him again. I ran
my hands up the inside of his thighs and then threaded them through the
curly hair that surrounded his sex. I leaned forward and kissed the
inside of his thigh, where it joined his hip. I thought I detected a
hint of movement out of his sleeping member, but I wasn't sure. I moved
my head and planted a kiss on the base of his cock. I moved my lips down
the length of it to the head, giving it soft little kisses along the
way. Yes, there was definite movement. I looked up at him and saw him
watching me. He quickly turned his head away. "It's okay to watch," I
assured him and then concentrated all my attention on the task at hand.
Gripping the base in one hand I placed my lips around the head and
slowly on it. He jumped at the first touch of my tongue but
settled back down with a ragged sigh. I could feel him starting to get
hard and moved my mouth slowly down to the base and then back up,
pulling at the skin with my lips.
The feeling of it coming to life in my mouth gave me such a rush of
power. I could feel wetness between my thighs and I couldn't hold back
my moan. I pulled my lips back to where they just circled the head and
hummed. His long, husky groan and whispered "Souvie," brought to mind
windswept nights and roaring fireplaces. At that point I wasn't sure
who was getting turned on more.
I kept up the slow and steady rhythm, sliding my lips all the way to the
base and then back up to the tip. When I would get to the head, I would
run my tongue in circles around it and then slowly start the cycle over
again.
Grinning, I took his cock out of my mouth and ran it across my cheek as
I licked up the vein along the underside. My tongue found the patch of
smooth skin in the break along the crown and I teased it with short hard
licks. I could see his sac starting to draw up and knew he couldn't
hold out much longer.
I stared at the luscious display of manhood right in front of my eyes
and placed my mouth back around his member. I started right back
with the slow and steady pace that had served me so well thus far. I
reached my hand down and fondled his sac, giving it a playful tug. The
muscles in his long legs bunched and he raised up on the bench. I slid
him out of me just as he lost control and his seed starting flowing out
of him. I pumped him with my hand and felt it splash against my chest
and face, hot and thick.
When he was spent, I stood up and tore off one of my scarves. I looked
at him as I wiped myself off. He was sitting there giving me such a
look of adoration and pleasure. I smiled wickedly at him and adjusted
my top. Somehow during my little administrations, my nipples had come
uncovered. I watched his gaze drawn to the pale globes and he stood up
and walked over to me. "Well, I guess I'm done," I said.
The sun through the window seemed to wink at me as it bounced off of the
gold bands he wore around his upper arms. The smile he gave me was full
of secret pleasures and dreamed of promises. "Oh, but I am not." He
reached out and picked me up by the waist, swung me around and laid me
on the bench. It was still warm with his body heat. His large hand
brushed through the scarves and found the treasure hiding there. A
feral noise escaped his throat and he knelt and buried his face between
my thighs.
The next hour was a blur. What Rorik lacked in experience, he more than
made up for in enthusiasm and ingenuity. When my fourth and final
orgasm receded, I doubted my ability to stand, let alone walk back into
the great hall. I pushed the hair out of my eyes and sat up. He handed
me my top and quickly dressed while I did the same. I picked up my harp
and smiled as I thought of the memories now attached to it. As we walked
back to the hall, I heard the faint whistle of the train. Talk about
timing!
When we entered the hall, timing was the last thing on my mind. There
was Louie sitting at the high table beside Eirik. What in the name of
Odin's Balls was he doing here, drinking ale and laughing with the jarl
as if they'd been friends for years? I marched up to them and stood
with my hands on my hips. He caught sight of me and had the good grace
to turn a light shade of purple. "Why Souvie, me dear. Donnae ye look
like one who's enjoyed a good tumble!"
"Don't you dare 'my dear' me. What is going on, Louie?"
"You mean you didn't tell her, little man?" Eirik threw back his head
and roared. "He bet me 100 gold coins earlier today, that my new skald
couldn't cure Rorik's manroot problem." He turned his attention to his
friend. "Well?"
The look of manly satisfaction on Rorik's face was proof enough what the
outcome had been.
Louie looked stunned. "Ye...ye mean it worked? Ye did it? But...ye've
been so shy and quiet on the train all this time. And none of your
stories so far had... I knew Virago or Pami would do it, but.." His
sentence trailed off weakly.
"You sniveling little worm! You set me up! I knew your concern was a
hoax, but I stupidly allowed myself to believe differently. I should
have known! A leopard never changes his spots." My Scots temper was in
an uproar. "I'll have you know, I am not as straight-laced as you seem
to think, you little green toady! I can suck dick with the best of
them!" I picked up a tankard from the table and drank to keep myself
from screaming at him any further.
Louie shrugged and laughed nervously. "All's well that ends well, right
lass?"
My tankard flew through the space Louie had been seconds before, and hit
the wall with a satisfying crash.
THE END
***Copyright 1999 by Souvie