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An Honorable Union Gone Awry

"Celts marry one person and stay with that one person." she said flatly. She had sort of accepted that she had to be with him, but after learning that he had many wives -- she wasn't going to accept it. She was angry about that. Even if she didn't want to be his wife, she certainly didn't want to be one of many wives.
 
He suddenly smiled, completely misinterpreting her anger, probably out of his own arrogance. The Viking shakes his head again, "Of course, you're jealous of my other wives." He absently tosses the doors shut behind him, stepping closer to the princess, voice lowering, "You need have no worries about them. Viking women... ugh," he grunts.

"But you..." he trails off, eyes wandering down her curvy body with another devilish grin, "Besides, there are ways you could make me forget those other wives entirely..."
 
She blinked at him for a second. She wasn't JEALOUS of them, she didn't want to be his wife! He was incredibly arrogant, and she especially did not like that about him. But her eyes widened a litle as he lowered his voice and stepped towards her. Her fight or flight response kicked in, but she knew that she could do neither of those things.

She stared at him, her skin crawling as he looked her body up and down, she knew he was thinking of all the things he could do to her. She thought it would be better to play nice. "Like...what?" she asked quietly.
 
One hand slides up to her face in another surprising display of softness, his thumb brushing itself gently against her lips. His eyes still twinkle merrily, head cocking to one side, "Mm, such pretty lips are made for more than just kissing... I imagine they'd go a long way toward making me forget other women even exist."
 
Her eyes widened as his hand touch her face so softly. It threw her off when he was gentle, it seemed so wrong to her for him to be kind. Her heart thumped a little faster, she thought she knew what he was getting at...but she didn't want to just volunteer to do such a thing for him. She knew that men liked their wives to suck on their manhoods...but she didn't want to just assume that was what he wanted.

"What else are they made for?" she asked quietly, trying not to sound like she was teasing him.
 
Canute's lips spread into another amused grin, his mirth showing through. It's fairly clear from his reaction that he completely misinterprets her statement in exactly the way she'd feared - he thinks she is teasing him.

His reply is more physical than vocal, the hand upon her lips dropping to one of her dainty wrists, guiding her hand gently beneath his wolf pelt and against that manhood she'd learned to know so well earlier today, "For these, of course."
 
Her face flushed even deeper when he placed her hand against his manhood. Her heart was thumping wildly now. She fidgeted a little bit, knowing that he thought she was playing with him, that she wanted to touch him. Her fingers touched along his still soft manhood slowly and lightly. She pondered what to do...should she stop, or should she keep playing his game?

She decided it would be best to play the game. "I've...um, never done that before," she said, almost innocently.
 
His soft manhood seems frighteningly easy to arouse; indeed, barely a touch from those delicate hands, and he is springing to attention within her finger's grasp, swelling and hardening in moments. He presses eagerly into that hand, voice lowering again, sounding pleased, "I didn't guess you had, but there's no magic to it..." He snickers, "Though I'm sure you'll get better with practice." He pauses for a long moment, seemingly waiting for her to take action, before grunting an amused, "Kneel, wife."
 
She jumped a little when his manhood seemed to come to life at her touch. She pulled her hand away in fear, but he pressed himself back into it. His lower voice was odd to her. It was so different from his usual mean and gruff voice...it was almost soothing. She knelt slowly, her face directly in front of his now hard cock. She looked up at him for a moment, unable to believe that she was about to do this. She was going to willingly please him.

She took her other hand and moved his cloth out of the way of his manhood, revealing it to her. Her one hand was still pressed against it. She leaned forward until her lips were just pressing against his tip lightly.
 
It is quite apparent to his young wife that she is, indeed, pleasing her husband. He watches her as she kneels, as she reluctantly leans forward, but not as her lips first touch his sensitive tip. Instead, his head tilts back, a long, drawn-out groan escaping his chest. His hips press forward eagerly, inching the head of that hardened manhood past her tentative lips.

"Mm, what a perfect wife you'll make," he groans.
 
Her heart was thumping almost out of control now. She was going against everything she had told herself when she had found out that she was going to have to marry this man. She had said that she would never please him, never allow him to see her naked, never let him touch her...but she had done all of that already. When he pushed his hips forward he slid into her mouth...and she didn't pull away.

Her lips were tight over his cock as she pushed down further, bringing more of him in. She kept her eyes averted from his now, she didn't want to have to both see and hear the pleasure she was giving him. Her tongue touched his underside lightly as she pushed down, and she began to suck.
 
Canute's breathing grows heavy as his wife devours him, and he never seems to notice her reluctance. Indeed, one big hand falling to the top of her head to guide her down that thick shaft, hips pressing forward eagerly to slide inch after inch into that warm, wet mouth, he beams a grin at his new wife.

"I knew you'd be happy to please your man after a while... perhaps you can enjoy yourself, now, too," he snickers, his head once again tilted forward, apparently eagerly watching his wife bob and suck on that hard cock. He leans forward slightly, fingers brushing her shoulder, just enough to shove off the furs thrown over her upper body, baring those wonderful breasts once more, a fine background for the scene he enjoys.
 
She manages to accept him pushing himself into her mouth even further without giving away her feelings about this on her face. She lets him guide her head on him, it's easier for her that way and it makes her feel as if she's not just doing this herself. Elsa hates that he thinks she's doing this to please him, but when she thinks about it for a moment, she is doing it to please him, however much she despises him.

But when he shoves her top fur off and reveals her breasts to him again, she has to really really concentrate on not crying. She feels such shame for doing this, not just for herself but for her entire clan. She's willingly pleasing the man that is taking over her home. She should be denounced for this. Despite all of that, she continues to suck on his cock as he moves her head up and down, her tongue touching just under his head.
 
He never even seems to notice her discomfort, indeed, her anguish at this, his gaze is so intent on those perfect breasts as they are exposed. A moment later, though, he loses himself fully in the feeling of that warm mouth, head tilting back and eyes closing with a long, low groan. Much to her dismay, he leaves the work to her again, no longer thrusting those hips forward, instead letting her get back to the task of pleasing her new husband.
 
The minor relief of him moving her head for her is dashed to pieces when he becomes still again. She looks up at him once or twice, her discomfort move than evident on her face. She knows she can do nothing else except bob her head up and down on him again, taking him as deep into her mouth as she can. Her mouth isn't large and his cock certainly is, so she is prone to gag when he reaches her throat. She, of course, wants to pull away from him, but she already knows him enough that if she were to do that he would only bring her back and force it deeper...so she complies and pleases him as best she can while remaining detached.
 
Indeed, even her diligence is not quite enough to save her from the fate she fears! Canute's hand returns to her head, but this time, it is not to guide that gentle bobbing, but to guide her forward even as his hips press into that warm, wet mouth, to slide that cock past the boundary of her throat despite her gagging, "Mm, such a good wife... just swallow, now," he rumbles.
 
She whimpers as he pushes her down and thrusts forward at the same time, realizing what he's going to do before he does it. She gags hard the first time, struggling a little, but she forces herself to accept it, knowing that fighting him right now will only cause worse things to happen to her. She tries her best to relax her throat, and it works. She's able to take him deep into her throat, her muscles there massaging him.
 
He lets loose a long gasp as the muscles of her throat tighten around his stiff cock, the fingers upon her head momentarily tightening, tangling in the mess of her hair. His gasp trails on as his hips press forward eagerly, though he seems, to his credit, to control the impulse to simply thrust wildly into that delicate throat. Instead, his hips ease forward, letting inch after inch slip past the relaxed muscles at the back of her throat.

"Mmm... I've heard stories about you Celtic women. Perhaps they're true," he rumbles, lips spreading into a wide grin. His gaze drops to watch her intently, watching as he slips that length deeper and deeper into the warm, wet confines of her mouth.
 
She was glad that he was at least being gentle about it, it could be much worse. He could be ripping her throat muscles, causing her throat to be sore and render her unable to speak for days. Instead, he was sliding in slowly, giving her throat a second or two to adjust to it as much as it could. It was still hard for her to handle, as he throat was small. She was breathing quickly through her nose, trying to control her terror at doing this.

She knew what the stories were. Stories of nymphatic Celtic women who craved sex, craved being touched and lived to please their husbands. She had always thought she would grow to be that way, but she had never guessed she would marry a heathen such as he. She couldn't be nymphatic with him, he didn't give her pleasure.
 
His shift in position is sudden, tugging back from those tender lips and that delicate throat with a single hand clutching the very base of his turgid shaft. He frees that cock with a wet smack from those lips, dragging its very tip along them for a moment while his hand strokes the length of that shaft, lips curving into a grin as he watches her pretty body kneeling, gasping for breath before him for a moment, "Mm, wife... I've decided you're going to shiver and quake for me, now. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I want you to beg me for that."
 
She was taken by suprise as he pulled out of her, the wet smacking sound of his cock slipping from her lips grossed her out a little bit. It was so dirty, something that should only be between two true lovers. She looked up at him when he spoke to her, her eyes becoming wide. She shook her head slowly, she didn't want to shiver and quake for him. She didn't want him to have the power to make her feel good, if she gave him that then he would truly be owner of her.

"N-no..." she said softly, still shaking her head, "I...I can't," her chest began to rise and fall faster, her exposed breasts bouncing lightly. She wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do to her, but she could remember that his taking of her earlier hadn't been too pleasurable.
 
He grins, his own body suddenly dropping, knees hitting the floor before her. Both those big hands catch her easily around the waist as he falls backward, quite simply manhandling her into a position - no doubt confusing to her! - sitting above his face as he lies on his back on the floor. "Mm, that's fine... you'll beg next time," he rumbles, and that seems to be the end of it. That is, until she feels the wet tickle of his tongue pressing against her sensitive flesh, head dipping up between those soft, milky thighs to tease her to excitement.
 
She screeches as he grabs her waist and pulls her over him, struggling a little bit. She gasps and her body tenses as his tongue presses against her. She wriggles when he does it again, her toes curling under her. "Wh-what are you doing!?" she asks him hurriedly, her voice higher than usual. His tongue touching her is sending short, sharp sensations up through her, something she's never experienced before. She realizes that she's been holding her breath and breathes a deep sigh, though her muscles are still tense.
 
He seems pleased indeed with her body's reaction. His strong hands grip her hips above his face, fingers stretching over those smooth thighs to guide her jumpy body back down onto his face. This time, though, his tongue does more than just dart against her; this time, that tongue presses its way into her delicate folds, probing with a teasing wriggle, his breath hot against her thighs. His fingers tighten on her thighs, drawing her down into that wriggling tongue as it slips its way slowly, teasingly, into her.
 
She shudders as he pulls her back down to him, his tongue pressing up into her once more. He's been licking her for barely a minute and she's already shuddering and quaking for him, though that though doesn't pass her mind while it's happening. Her hands grasped his wrists to steady herself, her fingers wrapping around his wrists tightly. Her inner muscles tighten as his tongue pushes inside of her, her body welcoming his touch before her mind has a chance to refuse him.
 
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