Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
In an instant, everything changed. Strong hands gripped my arms, yanking me inside. I caught a glimpse of bookshelves, chairs, an old desk, but I barely had time to gasp at the terrifying feeling of capture before something was shoved into my mouth—firm, chewy, filling my oral cavity. A gag, made of leather. Panic surged through me as I tried to cry out, but only muffled whimpers escaped.
“Shh, lille en.” Professor Hallstrom’s voice, usually so controlled, now held a dangerous edge. “Be still.”
My arms were wrenched behind my back, rough rope biting into my wrists as he bound them tight. I struggled, more out of instinct than any real hope of escape. His grip was like iron, implacable and unyielding.
Darkness descended as a hood was pulled over my head, cutting off my vision entirely. The fabric was thick, smelling faintly of leather and some musky scent I couldn’t place. My other senses heightened in compensation—I could hear the rustle of clothing, feel the warmth radiating from his body as he maneuvered me across the room.
He pushed me down onto what felt like a chair, his large hand on my shoulder keeping me in place. I trembled, fear and confusion warring with an unwelcome thrill of arousal. What was happening? Why was he doing this?
The sound of a phone being dialed cut through the silence. Then, Professor Hallstrom’s voice, but not in any language I recognized. The words flowed like water, lilting and musical despite the gravity in his tone. Norwegian? Swedish? I couldn’t be sure, but the Scandinavian quality seemed unmistakable.
I strained to make out individual words, to glean some understanding of what was happening, but it was useless. The conversation continued, terse and clipped. I caught what sounded like my name—‘Mary’—amidst the foreign syllables, sending a fresh surge of fear through me.
What had I gotten myself into? And why, even in my terror, did a part of me feel a perverse excitement at being so utterly at his mercy?
My muscles tensed as I gathered my courage, preparing to make a desperate attempt at escape. With a sudden burst of energy, I lurched upward from the chair, my bound hands scrabbling uselessly behind my back. For a fleeting moment, I thought I might succeed in breaking free.
That hope was swiftly extinguished as Professor Hallstrom’s iron grip clamped down on my shoulder, forcing me back into the seat with effortless strength. His fingers dug into my flesh, and even through the fabric of my blouse, I could feel the heat of his skin.
“Obey me, Miss O’Toole,” he growled in English, his voice low and dangerous. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit still and do exactly as I say.”
A shiver ran through me at his words. To my horror, it didn’t come from fear alone. My body betrayed me, a rush of warmth flooding between my legs despite the panic in my belly. I squirmed in the chair, confused and ashamed at my reaction.
“P-please,” I tried to whimper through the gag, the word coming out as little more than a muffled cry. “Let me go…”
Instead of answering, Professor Hallstrom yanked me up by my arm. In one fluid motion, he sat down and pulled me across his lap. I found myself bent over his knees, my bottom raised vulnerably in the air. My skirt had ridden up, leaving me mortifyingly exposed in only my thin cotton panties.
“You need to learn your place, lille en,” he said, his accent thicker now, almost guttural. “Consider this a quick introduction to how the Vikings handled the girls they captured for use on the rowing benches.”
Before I could process his words, his hand came down hard on my upturned bottom. The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the quiet office. I yelped into the gag, more from surprise than pain. But then he struck again and again, each spank harder than the last.
The sting built rapidly, spreading across my buttocks and down my thighs. Tears pricked at my eyes, soaking into the fabric of the hood. I squirmed and bucked, trying to escape the relentless assault, but his other arm held me firmly in place.
“This is nothing compared to what those fierce Norsemen would have done,” Professor Hallstrom lectured, punctuating his words with stinging slaps. “They took what they wanted, claimed the spoils of their raids. Pretty little things like you were prizes to be won and enjoyed.”
To my horror, I felt myself growing wetter with each strike. The pain blurred into a hazy pleasure, igniting nerve endings I didn’t know I had. My hips began to move of their own accord, no longer trying to escape, but almost… seeking out his punishing hand.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Show me what kind of thrall you’re going to be.”