Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“You see?” He brought the strap down again while his fingers circled that sensitive bundle of nerves. “Your body tells me everything, despite the conflict in your mind and your heart.”
Another stroke, another burst of exquisite agony paired with his skilled touch. I was climbing toward something massive, an orgasm that would destroy whatever remained of the woman I’d been when I walked into this warehouse. My hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing the release that built like a storm in my belly.
“Please,” I sobbed. “Please, Herra, I need—”
His hand withdrew instantly, leaving me hanging on the precipice. “No. You won’t come until my tól is inside you.”
I heard him moving behind me, positioning himself. The blunt head of his cock pressed against the opening of my aching sheath, and I whimpered at the size of him.
“I know you’re on birth control,” he said, his voice carrying that same clinical tone even as he began to push inside. “The sensor between your legs monitors everything about your body. So I have no compunction about filling this sweet fisse with my seed.”
He entered me in one long, steady thrust, and I cried out at the fullness. He was so much larger than Takken, stretching me in ways that bordered on painful. But beneath the discomfort, that terrible need still pulsed, desperate for the release he’d denied me.
“You will not come until I give permission,” he commanded, beginning to move with slow, deep strokes. “And I won’t give that permission until you’ve returned to the tree. Until you’ve had another vision of the working of the roots and branches of the world.”
The collar grew hot against my throat again, and I felt myself beginning to drift even as his cock moved inside me. The physical sensations remained acute—the stretch of him filling me, the burn of my welted bottom, the ache in my bound wrists—but my consciousness began to separate. I understood this was happening even as Aksel’s cock drove deeper into me, stretching me in ways that made me sob with confused pleasure.
“Listen carefully,” Aksel said, his voice cutting through the haze that threatened to overwhelm me. His hands gripped my hips as he maintained that steady, devastating rhythm. “What you’re experiencing isn’t supernatural, Lorna. I know you’ll want to believe it is—that some mystical force is showing you these visions.”
I gasped as he angled his hips, hitting something deep inside that made me cry out in helpless pleasure. The collar burned against my throat, and I could feel myself slipping toward that other place, toward the silver branches and golden threads.
“No,” he continued, his breath coming harder now though his words remained precise. “The visions come from within you. Your unconscious mind observes everything—every impression, every tell, every pattern that your conscious self misses. That’s your inherent vǫlva sense, and the collar merely unlocks that ability more fully.”
“But I saw—” I started to protest, then gasped out as he thrust particularly deep.
“You saw what you already knew,” Aksel said firmly. “Think about it. Every meeting you attended with Takken, every document left carelessly on his desk, every phone call you overheard but didn’t consciously register. Your mind catalogued it all.”
The world shimmered around me, the longboat fading as those impossible branches materialized again. But now his words made me see them differently. Not as some mystical world tree, but as neural pathways, connections my brain was making between disparate pieces of information.
“The ancient völur understood this intuitively,” he said, one hand leaving my hip to stroke down my spine. “They called it sight beyond sight, but we know better now. It’s a special kind of unconscious processing that only manifests in women with your particular nature—women who submit completely, who surrender their conscious defenses.”
I saw Takken again in my mind’s eye, but now I recognized the scene. A dinner party three months ago where he’d excused himself to take a call. I’d heard him speaking Russian through the door—I’d forgotten, but my unconscious mind hadn’t. The vision showed me what I’d missed: the tension in his shoulders when he returned, the way he’d avoided Horakovsky’s gaze for the rest of the evening.
“That’s it,” Aksel encouraged, his thrusts becoming more forceful. “Let your mind work. Every woman who serves the Sons of Odin as a vǫlva learns this truth eventually. What seems like prophecy is simply your remarkable brain finally being allowed to function as it was meant to.”
CHAPTER 7
Aksel
As I fucked Lorna’s tight little cunt, I did all I could to keep my thoughts in order. It was very far from easy, given how much pleasure I couldn’t help taking in fucking the gorgeous First Lady of Jagland, watching my rock-hard tól plunge in and out of the girl’s sweet fisse.
But despite my years of experience as a Son of Odin, what I sensed through our connection almost made me pause mid-thrust. I had the urge to fetch my handheld from my pants to verify with the data feed from Freya’s Bridle what I could feel under my hands, against my lap, and above all in my rampant, surging cock: patterns of movement I’d only known our most experienced völur to make.