A Viking's Prize (M+/M+) - Conclusion posted 8/6/20
Posted: Tue Jul 21, 2020 8:53 pm
Put this in the wrong forum! Moved to the correct one.
Since my last story was so successful and well-received, I decided to try another. This time it's a period piece with more adult situations.
Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.
Chapter 1 – A Callow Youth
The fire crackled in the great hall of Castle Bamford as the servants rushed back and forth with their trays. Roderick grabbed a mutton chop from a platter brought by a comely wench and smiled at her. She averted her eyes, as is required of the serving class when interacting with nobles, and curtseyed. Roderick’s Lord Father smiled. It was about time his son had shown proper attention to the ladies.
The castle had seemed empty these last few months. Roderick’s two older brothers, stout men and true, had been off serving God’s will in the Crusades, and he had been left behind to care for the household in their absence. Roderick seethed internally at the indignity. He was no longer a child that needed coddling. He had been a man these past two years! As the third son, his prospects for glory were slim already and he chafed at being denied his chance to prove his valor in the Holy Land.
Still, his Lady Mother doted on the lad, and he spent his days idling in the countryside, riding his champion stallion and refining his swordplay and archery. While not as strong in the arm as his brothers, he was a mean swordsman on his own merit. The responsibilities of running a household were not his concern, those being the duty of his eldest brother when he returned from Jerusalem. His future involved being wedded to the daughter of Lord Somethingorother and retiring to a lush country estate for a life of leisure. Little was expected of him and even less was asked of him.
The prospect of being bonded to any maiden set Roderick ill at ease, as his predilections leaned in the other direction. From time to time he would have dalliances with the men who tended the fields, but had been found out by his Lord Father a year ago out in the stables in mid tryst with a stablehand. His father seethed with rage and wanted to have the poor man flogged for buggery, but he could not do so without implicating his own son. So he stayed his hand and send the lad packing, threatening grave retaliation if he ever spoke of it again. After that, Roderick needed to be more careful. He felt heavy remorse for what happened to the poor man and vowed to never let his carelessness hurt another similarly.
Thomas was the castle smith. At a mere 20 years, he was very young for the position. He was apprentice to the former smith in his youth and was promoted when the master died of plague three years ago. He was handsome of face and strong of arm, with mahogany hair and piercing green eyes. Roderick had first met him when he came to the smithy seeking a new set of shoes for his stallion one year anon. His mind drifted back as his parents ate in anxious silence.
Roderick strode into the stone building and was taken aback by the heat. He saw no one, but heard the distinctive clanging of metal on metal from the rear and went towards it. Thomas was hard at work and Roderick stood agape when he saw him. The young smith had removed his tunic from the intense heat of the forge and worked barechested. Sweat and soot covered his barrel chest and massive arms as he flattened a sword against the anvil. His hair was covered by a coarse rag, not unlike those worn by pirates on the high seas, and a sturdy leather apron partially obscured his torso, but enough flesh was exposed to attract Roderick’s attention.
Oblivious to his visitor, Thomas grabbed the sword with tongs and cooled it in a barrel of water, closing his eyes as steam rose and filled the air. He did not notice the young lord’s presence until he had placed the weapon on the rack. Thomas immediately bowed his head and knelt. The Noble Family rarely came to the shops themselves, preferring to have house servants relay their requests, and he was unsure of how to carry himself.
Roderick bid the man to rise and they conversed for a while. Rapport came quickly and turned into friendship. Friendship became more. Mindful of his past indiscretions, Roderick would often come to the forge at night for play in secret. The doors could be locked, unlike those in the stable, which guaranteed their privacy. And Thomas was as skilled in the bed as he was at the anvil. And possessed of a quite a keen mind for a commoner.
On one such night, Roderick decided to play a game. He said to the strapping smith, “Today I wish you to ravish me. We shall pretend you are a brigand on the road who has waylaid my carriage.”
Thomas smiled. “What fun, dear Roddy,” he said, covering his handsome stubbled face with a cloth in the manner of a bandit’s mask. He slipped behind Roderick and clamped a thick, calloused hand over the young lord’s mouth. He wrapped his other arm tighly around his victim, pinning his arms to his sides. Roderick writhed against the strong man’s embrace.
“Not a sound out of you, sweet thing,” Thomas said, feigning a gutter tone and accent, “lest my dagger seek it’s mark.” Roderick softly grunted and vainly struggled, but the arms of his captor were bands of iron. Soon he gave up and meekly nodded.
“I am going to release my hand from your mouth,” Thomas warned, “but if you cry out I will fell you where you stand.” Roderick nodded again and Thomas released his mouth. His free hand skillfully found its way to Roderick’s coin purse. “This is now mine,” he said, snatching the purse and tossing it onto the work table. “Now let us see what manner of prey I have ensnared”
He stepped back and turned Roderick around. The young lord stood defiant, but kept his arms at his side as Thomas explored his body with his thick hands. He opened Roderick’s coat and grabbed the collar of his tunic with both hands. Showing his titanic strength, Thomas tore the tunic into a worthless rag, revealing Roderick’s respectable chest, sprinkled with a light coating of dark hair.
“What a prize!” Thomas said. “I have done well this day!” He stripped the coat off of Roderick and deposited in on the worktable as well. Then he took the remnants of the torn tunic. “But I still do not trust ye to remain silent,” he said. “So I must gag that lovely mouth of yours.” He brought the cloth up to Roderick’s lips, which he obediently opened. Thomas gently placed it in and wound it around Roderick’s head three times before knotting it off in back. Roderick’s mouth was fully muzzled and he softly mppgghhed in vain through the gag.
Thomas began exploring Roderick’s lower regions, brushing his hand against the young lord’s codpiece. “And what further treasures lie beneath?” he said. “Woe for you, sweet thing, but I shall be taking you back with me to my lair as a trophy to use as I please. Struggle all you like, but you are not mighty enough to defeat me.”
Taking his cue, Roderick lunged at Thomas and the two playfully tussled, but in the end the bigger man won. Roderick was pinned down on his stomach, the strapping smith atop him. “A valiant effort, but, alas, not enough,” Thomas said. He grabbed a length of leather cord from the wall and used it to securely, but gently, bind Roderick’s wrists behind his back. “Now, young lord, you are completely trussed and at my mercy. Now, let us return to my bandit lair so I may examine my prize in privacy.”
Roderick was raised to his knees and placed facing his burly captor. Thomas unlaced the cord on his leather breeches as Roderick glared at him defiantly. “Now, my handsome prisoner,” Thomas said, “I have already taken your valuables, now let us see how much value you place on your life…” Afterwards, Thomas did not untie Roderick and cradled him in his arms as they slept.
Roderick’s mind drifted back to the present. On this night, there would be no rendezvous for the pair. Roderick’s parents seemed ill-at-ease. They spoke naught as they ate, only addressing their son when the meal was done and the table was cleared.
“Dear boy,” his Lord Father said as his Lady Mother dabbed tears from her eyes with her silken handkerchief, “I am afraid that I bring bad news to this table.”
Roderick looked up, full of trepidation. Had they received word that one of his brothers had fallen in battle?
“We have received a messenger from one of the coastal villages at the edge of our lands,” his father said. “There has been a plague of Norsemen raiding the coast and one of their ships has been spotted near our territory.”
Roderick frowned. Norsemen. Those barbarians from the icy wastes held no fear of God and no love of the law in their hearts. Foul knaves all, destined for the blackest pit of Hell.
“The peasants have beseeched us for help, and as their Lord I must dispatch men to protect them,” his father said. “Lest they fall victim to those heathens and become unable to pay their taxes. I am sending you as my representative to safeguard the peasants.”
His Lady Mother wailed as his father continued. “You will be given a small battalion of warriors to lead. Strong men and valorous. I expect you to do honor to the Bamford name and return to us safely when the danger has passed.”
“Oh, woe!” his Lady Mother cried. “Must I send all my sons into danger?”
“Fear not, mother,” Roderick said. “No barbarian axe can fell me. I am a Bamford and no Nordic beast can stand against my righteous blade!”
Roderick’s words calmed his mother somewhat, but she was still feeling faint and decided to retire early for the evening. Roderick’s Lord Father bade him to bed as well, as he would leave for the coast with the men at first light.
Coming Soon - Part 2 – The Norsemen Attack
Since my last story was so successful and well-received, I decided to try another. This time it's a period piece with more adult situations.
Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.
Chapter 1 – A Callow Youth
The fire crackled in the great hall of Castle Bamford as the servants rushed back and forth with their trays. Roderick grabbed a mutton chop from a platter brought by a comely wench and smiled at her. She averted her eyes, as is required of the serving class when interacting with nobles, and curtseyed. Roderick’s Lord Father smiled. It was about time his son had shown proper attention to the ladies.
The castle had seemed empty these last few months. Roderick’s two older brothers, stout men and true, had been off serving God’s will in the Crusades, and he had been left behind to care for the household in their absence. Roderick seethed internally at the indignity. He was no longer a child that needed coddling. He had been a man these past two years! As the third son, his prospects for glory were slim already and he chafed at being denied his chance to prove his valor in the Holy Land.
Still, his Lady Mother doted on the lad, and he spent his days idling in the countryside, riding his champion stallion and refining his swordplay and archery. While not as strong in the arm as his brothers, he was a mean swordsman on his own merit. The responsibilities of running a household were not his concern, those being the duty of his eldest brother when he returned from Jerusalem. His future involved being wedded to the daughter of Lord Somethingorother and retiring to a lush country estate for a life of leisure. Little was expected of him and even less was asked of him.
The prospect of being bonded to any maiden set Roderick ill at ease, as his predilections leaned in the other direction. From time to time he would have dalliances with the men who tended the fields, but had been found out by his Lord Father a year ago out in the stables in mid tryst with a stablehand. His father seethed with rage and wanted to have the poor man flogged for buggery, but he could not do so without implicating his own son. So he stayed his hand and send the lad packing, threatening grave retaliation if he ever spoke of it again. After that, Roderick needed to be more careful. He felt heavy remorse for what happened to the poor man and vowed to never let his carelessness hurt another similarly.
Thomas was the castle smith. At a mere 20 years, he was very young for the position. He was apprentice to the former smith in his youth and was promoted when the master died of plague three years ago. He was handsome of face and strong of arm, with mahogany hair and piercing green eyes. Roderick had first met him when he came to the smithy seeking a new set of shoes for his stallion one year anon. His mind drifted back as his parents ate in anxious silence.
Roderick strode into the stone building and was taken aback by the heat. He saw no one, but heard the distinctive clanging of metal on metal from the rear and went towards it. Thomas was hard at work and Roderick stood agape when he saw him. The young smith had removed his tunic from the intense heat of the forge and worked barechested. Sweat and soot covered his barrel chest and massive arms as he flattened a sword against the anvil. His hair was covered by a coarse rag, not unlike those worn by pirates on the high seas, and a sturdy leather apron partially obscured his torso, but enough flesh was exposed to attract Roderick’s attention.
Oblivious to his visitor, Thomas grabbed the sword with tongs and cooled it in a barrel of water, closing his eyes as steam rose and filled the air. He did not notice the young lord’s presence until he had placed the weapon on the rack. Thomas immediately bowed his head and knelt. The Noble Family rarely came to the shops themselves, preferring to have house servants relay their requests, and he was unsure of how to carry himself.
Roderick bid the man to rise and they conversed for a while. Rapport came quickly and turned into friendship. Friendship became more. Mindful of his past indiscretions, Roderick would often come to the forge at night for play in secret. The doors could be locked, unlike those in the stable, which guaranteed their privacy. And Thomas was as skilled in the bed as he was at the anvil. And possessed of a quite a keen mind for a commoner.
On one such night, Roderick decided to play a game. He said to the strapping smith, “Today I wish you to ravish me. We shall pretend you are a brigand on the road who has waylaid my carriage.”
Thomas smiled. “What fun, dear Roddy,” he said, covering his handsome stubbled face with a cloth in the manner of a bandit’s mask. He slipped behind Roderick and clamped a thick, calloused hand over the young lord’s mouth. He wrapped his other arm tighly around his victim, pinning his arms to his sides. Roderick writhed against the strong man’s embrace.
“Not a sound out of you, sweet thing,” Thomas said, feigning a gutter tone and accent, “lest my dagger seek it’s mark.” Roderick softly grunted and vainly struggled, but the arms of his captor were bands of iron. Soon he gave up and meekly nodded.
“I am going to release my hand from your mouth,” Thomas warned, “but if you cry out I will fell you where you stand.” Roderick nodded again and Thomas released his mouth. His free hand skillfully found its way to Roderick’s coin purse. “This is now mine,” he said, snatching the purse and tossing it onto the work table. “Now let us see what manner of prey I have ensnared”
He stepped back and turned Roderick around. The young lord stood defiant, but kept his arms at his side as Thomas explored his body with his thick hands. He opened Roderick’s coat and grabbed the collar of his tunic with both hands. Showing his titanic strength, Thomas tore the tunic into a worthless rag, revealing Roderick’s respectable chest, sprinkled with a light coating of dark hair.
“What a prize!” Thomas said. “I have done well this day!” He stripped the coat off of Roderick and deposited in on the worktable as well. Then he took the remnants of the torn tunic. “But I still do not trust ye to remain silent,” he said. “So I must gag that lovely mouth of yours.” He brought the cloth up to Roderick’s lips, which he obediently opened. Thomas gently placed it in and wound it around Roderick’s head three times before knotting it off in back. Roderick’s mouth was fully muzzled and he softly mppgghhed in vain through the gag.
Thomas began exploring Roderick’s lower regions, brushing his hand against the young lord’s codpiece. “And what further treasures lie beneath?” he said. “Woe for you, sweet thing, but I shall be taking you back with me to my lair as a trophy to use as I please. Struggle all you like, but you are not mighty enough to defeat me.”
Taking his cue, Roderick lunged at Thomas and the two playfully tussled, but in the end the bigger man won. Roderick was pinned down on his stomach, the strapping smith atop him. “A valiant effort, but, alas, not enough,” Thomas said. He grabbed a length of leather cord from the wall and used it to securely, but gently, bind Roderick’s wrists behind his back. “Now, young lord, you are completely trussed and at my mercy. Now, let us return to my bandit lair so I may examine my prize in privacy.”
Roderick was raised to his knees and placed facing his burly captor. Thomas unlaced the cord on his leather breeches as Roderick glared at him defiantly. “Now, my handsome prisoner,” Thomas said, “I have already taken your valuables, now let us see how much value you place on your life…” Afterwards, Thomas did not untie Roderick and cradled him in his arms as they slept.
Roderick’s mind drifted back to the present. On this night, there would be no rendezvous for the pair. Roderick’s parents seemed ill-at-ease. They spoke naught as they ate, only addressing their son when the meal was done and the table was cleared.
“Dear boy,” his Lord Father said as his Lady Mother dabbed tears from her eyes with her silken handkerchief, “I am afraid that I bring bad news to this table.”
Roderick looked up, full of trepidation. Had they received word that one of his brothers had fallen in battle?
“We have received a messenger from one of the coastal villages at the edge of our lands,” his father said. “There has been a plague of Norsemen raiding the coast and one of their ships has been spotted near our territory.”
Roderick frowned. Norsemen. Those barbarians from the icy wastes held no fear of God and no love of the law in their hearts. Foul knaves all, destined for the blackest pit of Hell.
“The peasants have beseeched us for help, and as their Lord I must dispatch men to protect them,” his father said. “Lest they fall victim to those heathens and become unable to pay their taxes. I am sending you as my representative to safeguard the peasants.”
His Lady Mother wailed as his father continued. “You will be given a small battalion of warriors to lead. Strong men and valorous. I expect you to do honor to the Bamford name and return to us safely when the danger has passed.”
“Oh, woe!” his Lady Mother cried. “Must I send all my sons into danger?”
“Fear not, mother,” Roderick said. “No barbarian axe can fell me. I am a Bamford and no Nordic beast can stand against my righteous blade!”
Roderick’s words calmed his mother somewhat, but she was still feeling faint and decided to retire early for the evening. Roderick’s Lord Father bade him to bed as well, as he would leave for the coast with the men at first light.
Coming Soon - Part 2 – The Norsemen Attack