She panted. A spicy mixture of sweat, smoke, and danger permeated the air around her. She ran. The howls of fierce war dogs could be heard along with raging male battle cries. Saphara knew that she would not be able to outrun them for much longer. Maybe it was because she was tiny and small and fragile and totally not dressed for such vigorous outdoor exercise or perhaps it was because she wanted to be caught. Still, she willed on the chase and her breath labored in uneven bursts.
Saphara looked over her white mortal form shoulder. She saw them, but she wasn’t entirely sure if they could see her. She decided to slow her pace. Her Celestial power could allow her to bring the land to her but instead she ran. I really am out of shape. Perhaps I shouldn’t make my mortal form so weak. She looked over her shoulder again and saw that the Vikings were in fact gaining on her. They were headed towards a small monastery that was located a few miles ahead of them. Oh, Mr. Viking Warrior Sir, don’t hurt me. I’m just a simple maiden out for a stroll to pick flowers and braid my hair and stuff. Please don’t violate my innocent yet totally sumptuous body. Every now and thenSaphara preferred to think with the mind of a woman from the 21st century, (as a mortal from that plane would have called it) for to think as a Celestial was far too deep. The noise behind her was getting louder; the Vikings were closing in. Saphara could distinctly make out the sound of a mighty warhorse thundering towards her. She slowed down her pace once more and began to get more vocal with her physical exertions.
“Aaaaaaah!” Saphara shrieked in was taken as pure fear instead of anticipation of excitement. Flailing her arms she tried in a feeble attempt to outrun a Viking on a frothing equine beast. The next thing she knew Saphara was vaulted up by a powerful and corded arm. The skirt of her chemise ripped and was pulled up just beneath her curved backside. Saphara screamed in fear and outrage at being so violently handled. She beat her fists on the hairy animal of a man who claimed her.
“Let me go!” she sobbed “Let me go you giant stinking ape! Let me…” with a harsh thunk on the head Saphara was rendered unconscious. Waving his hand and drawing back sharply the Viking commanded his raid to a halt. He had galloped ahead of his group when he spotted what appeared to be womanflesh running in front of him. He was slightly surprised to find a young woman in her undergarments trying to flee a raid of Vikings. She must be incredibly stupid or brave to try and outrun us. He mused. He would definitely have fun mounting this mouthwatering wisp of a damsel. He wondered if he might not split her in two with his mighty Viking manhood.
“Why have we stopped, milord Rogeth? Rogeth blinked back into attention after a rather tempting daydream. The man who interrupted his thoughts was known as Aldvar, his second in command. Rogeth motioned for his squire to come forth.
“Lowdain,” he growled, “take this and ride back to our encampment. Guard her but don’t let her out of your sight. Let none touch for she is mine to claim tonight.” Lowdain, a Viking teen of immense size took the unconscious woman over this shoulder. She was no bigger than a child; his shoulder was wider than her middle. Lowdain was not pleased at the prospect of playing nursemaid instead of raiding but he was loyal to his master and would not let anyone or anything come in between this apparent object of his lord’s attention.
“Aye, milord, I will keep her safe.” Lowdain readied his sword and began the trek back the encampment. Sword in his right and woman on his left, Rogeth watched Lowdain disappear into the field behind them. There was something strange about that woman; he felt something quite unsettling when he grabbed her, a source of unimaginable power… but he did not possess the knowledge to make sense of it. His battle wits, he thought, were addling his normal state of mind. With a roar he kicked his beast into full gallop and plowed towards the doomed monastery.
Her head hurt. She felt like absolute shit. Ughhhhh, Saphara moaned. When in mortal form this Celestial felt pain as strongly as any mortal. A nasty purplish bruise was forming on her right temple. A badge of things to come, she thought wickedly. Saphara loved bruises and other marks from her lovers. She loved being reminded of her passionate episode, even though the marks seldom remained after she transformed back into her Celestial form. Slowly she opened her eyes and began to move. She was deposited on a pile of furs in a large tent. It was dark and cold; the only heat source was from a brazier that glowed low in the center of the room. She shivered. I wish I had worn more clothes. Even Celestials felt cold.Saphara snuggled down as best as she could into the furs. Her arms were free but around her ankle there was a rope that chained her to a pole supporting the tent. Ohhhh, so this Viking likes restraint. She was going to have so much fun. All around her was silent except for the distant crackling of thunder and hint of wind. “Ahhhh,” she began to moan loudly. “Ahhhhhh!” she screamed. Immediately the flaps of the tent opened and a massive hulk of a mortal man entered with a sword drawn.
“What is it, wench?” rasped Lowdain. Young and pale, Lowdain had a square face that was covered in dark blonde stubble. His hair hung in dirty locks to his chin. He had eyes as light as a winter sky. He certainly was handsome, thought Saphara, but she wasn’t in the mood for handsome. She wanted beastly and Lowdain was still a virgin. Saphara enjoyed initiating virgins but tonight was not the night.
“Where am I?” she demanded imperiously.
“In the tent of lord Rogeth, prince and heir to the King of the Vikings of Scandia.”.
Saphara looked around with apparent disgust. With a smirk she said, “Not much of a lord. This tent is unfurnished, cold, and dank. I would expect a man of such high standing to be able to afford at least the basest of accommodations. A pile of old furs? One brazier? Where is the gold, the spoils of war? Is he so poor to only have one seemingly incompetent fool of a giant serving him?”
Lowdain recoiled as if stung by a viper. Never in his life had he heard such intelligent speech for a woman. He wasn’t even sure if he was insulted or impressed. This woman must be a great lady. Dazed, he shook his head and replied, “My lord prefers to keep his treasures hidden. He does not like to carry many things because he despises the time it takes to pack them up. We raid and go home to drop off our spoils and then raid again. His castle is far grander, would you like me to find you cleaner furs, my lady?” Lowdain had no idea why he told her all of that. Over the years of his servitude as squire he treated the women of Rogeth the same as he would treat a dog. They were there for one purpose. But this lady was special, she commanded respect.
Saphara’s gaze softened, “Yes, I would like that. I would appreciate it if you would build up the fire and bring me water and soap for a bath. That will be all. Oh! And some wine.”
“Yes, my lady, at once, my lady.” Lowdain ducked under the tent flaps but immediately resurfaced. “My apologies, my lady, we have no wine. Only mead.”
Saphara rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Never mind then. I suppose it would be agreeable to die of thirst than of what is surely about to transpire when your lord, (she drew that title out to emphasize how little she thought of him), returns back to this cesspit of a camp ground.” Lowdain exited the tent in a flurry to please this majestic lady. Saphara relaxed as best as she could into the smelly furs.
Lowdain returned shortly with a bundle of clean furs and linens. He then left and brought forth a mighty basin of water. He turned his attentions towards building up the fire. In no time the brazier crackled and the tent was transformed into warm and cheery environment. “I apologize, my lady, for the cold water. Here is your soap. I will be outside if you need anything.”
Saphara smiled a genuinely warm smile upon Lowdain. He truly is a gentle mortal. I bless you Lowdain. “Thank you, my…”
“Lowdain, my name is Lowdain.”
“Thank you, Lowdain.” Lowdain turned to leave by briskly twisted back perplexed.
“Yes?” inquired Saphara.
“My lady, how is it that you were caught?” he asked shyly.
Oh shit, Saphara thought, I didn’t come up with my story yet.
“I was having a picnic at the river near hear. My maid, manservant, and guard escorted me. I had taken a nap along the banks only to find that my maid and manservant had disappeared. My guard was slumped over in a gentle slumber. I did not mind for this land is peaceful and safe. I had no idea that such dangers were lurking. Anyway, I stood up and took a brief walk. I discovered my maid and manservant locked in a carnal embrace.” Lowdain looked confused. Saphara added to clafify, “They were fucking.” Lowdain was shocked to hear such vulgar language coming from the mouth a beautiful lady. He blushed a bright crimson. “I left them be and decided to take a bath in the river. I removed my gown and stepped into the waters in what you see here, the tattered remains of my chemise. I am not the strongest of swimmers and got stuck in a current. When I finally broke free I was far away from where I picnicked. Assured that I would find my way back I started to down along the banks. That was hours ago. I was lost and trying to find my way when I was caught. At first, I thought it was my people coming to rescue me, but I was mistaken. The next thing I knew I was catapulted onto the back of a horse, knocked unconscious, and now I am here.” Saphara let out a sigh and gazed down at the floor in a gesture of despair.
Concerned, Lowdain reached out and grabbed her hand and looked into her beautiful mossy brown eyes. “Do not fight him, my lady. He is rough but if you please him he will treat you like a queen. It is high time that he found a bride, and a beautiful lady, if I may be so bold to say, such as yourself would suit him greatly.”
Touched by his concern Saphara returned his gaze and said, “No man, Viking or not, will ever best me. Fear not for my wellbeing, Lowdain, I have been trained since birth to deal with men. As a princess, I fear no man. I will handle your Lord as he will handle me.”
“Are you a virgin?” Lowdain eyes grew wide with embarrassment. “My lady, I did not mean to ask such a personal question, I…” he stuttered.
“It is quite alright, Lowdain, I am not in the least way offended. Yes, I am a virgin and I supposed I forfeited it when I left the company of my protectors. Tis my punishment. Now, I really must bathe. I will speak to you on the morrow.” Saphara dismissed Lowdain with a nod of her little head.
Saphara stood and stretched. She winced at the pain in her head and crumpled into a ball on the floor. Why oh why do I feel pain? Celestials felt pain too. Rising again, slowly, Saphara made her way towards the tub. She touched the water and immediately it began to bubble with warmth. Steam rose above it. Her ripped garment dissipated into the air as she stepped into the tub. Her tethered ankle was forced to hang over the side allowing any one in the room a glimpse at her most vulnerable of parts. How erotic, she mused. The small cake of soap was unscented. She thought for a second and the soap became scented with rose and vanilla. Rose was the most favorite of Saphara’s fragrances. It was alluring and as mysterious as she was in her true ethereal form. The thunder sounded again. Saphara glanced upward and looked through the tent at Makala. Makala’s mirth at her exploits was evident through the thunder. It was truly amusing, Makala was watching her. Be careful, said Makala as she sang through the thunder. Suddenly she appeared in the tent as a small bird.
“I will, Makala, I will.”
“How many times have you been with Rogeth?”
“I have never been with anyone but Rogeth, in all of his stages on the Planes of Time.” Makala paused and just looked at Saphara for a moment. She let out a sigh.
“You know what you’re doing, but please, for the sake all the things we hold dear in this existence, find another lover.”
“Makala, I will not Fall. I…” Saphara was interrupted by the loud distant barking of hounds. “They’re back. Makala, go back to our palace in the Heavens. I will be fine.” With a face contorted with disgust and concern Makala burst into a thousand tiny fiery bubbles and vanished from the tent. Saphara slunk back into the waters of the tub. I would Fall for Rogeth, she pondered, but not in this existence. Not when his soul is locked in with that of a Viking’s. Dipping a sponge she conjured from the air, Saphara concentrated on washing a tiny pink foot. Slowly she worked her way up an elegant calf to her soft thigh. Nestled between her legs she sought the true source of her divinity, and cleansed it.
Rogeth thundered through the raid like a madman. He couldn’t even recall what had happened in the raid for all he could focus on was a tiny half naked woman with reddish brown hair and mossy brown eyes. Sweat poured into his eyes from his exertion. He kicked his horse into a mighty gallop and nearly flew back to the encampment. Rogeth’s sword hung bloodied down his back. That isn’t the only sword that will be bloodied tonight, he thought with relish. His mouth watered at the mere thought of that soon to be ravaged woman. Upon reaching the encampment Rogeth bellowed for Lowdain. “Lowdain!” he roared.
“Yes milord?” Lowdain appeared not the least bit disturbed by his master’s seemingly distraught state. It had been a long time any of them had had a woman, let alone a man of Rogeth’s voracious appetites for womanflesh.
“Take my horse and see it watered, fed, and brushed.” Rogeth shoved the reigns into Lowdain’s oversized hands as he made his way to the kitchen tent. Grabbing a mug of ale Rogeth threw it back. He grabbed another. And another. Rogeth took the fourth one with him and strode with a drunken determination and violence as the lightning and thunder rumbled above.
Rogeth stopped at the outside of his tent. He heard water splashing and humming. He wasn’t expecting that. “Odin’s beard…” gasped Rogeth as he peered inside his tent. The tiny woman was bent over in the tub with her deliciously curved bottom in full view. Her tethered ankle was perched on the side of the copper tub. She hummed as she dipped the sponge into the foaming scented water. Slowly she stood up and squeezed the sponge over her head. The drops of water slid down her lithe body and the fire burning the brazier reflected a sensuous glow. He didn’t even notice the carpets on the floor nor the table laden with food. All he saw was an ass, a perfectly white piece of ass that was wet with water. How he longed to suck up those drips of water. He was thirsty, very thirsty. His four goblets of ale would be nothing in comparison to the honeyed nectar that brewed between her shapely thighs. His pants got considerably tighter. It was at that moment that Saphara decided to turn around.
“Oh my!” she gasped at the intruder. Saphara leapt from the tub over to the magically conjured table and grabbed a towel. She had decided at that moment to do away with the silly cord around her ankle; it melted off, but Rogeth didn’t notice that either. Saphara draped the towel over her body. Her nipples popped out from the inside of the cloth in what seem to be evidence of her coldness, or perhaps it was her arousal? Rogeth strode forward and yanked the towel back from her and rent it asunder. Saphara stared at him in the eye in defiance.
“Viking bastard,” she cursed, “I am not afraid of you.”
“Frankish bitch,” Rogeth matched through grated teeth, “I am going to ravage the fuck out of you”. His body betrayed his words, however, as he reached out to grab her hair. Soft, so soft. Tender thoughts raced through his mind. Bending forward he grabbed Saphara about her small waist and threw her down onto the table knocking over a loaf of bread and a basket of exotic fruits. His rough bearded mouth sought her round pink lips and kissed her with a fervor he had never felt before, or had he? Within that kiss lasted an eternity for Saphara. Her every essence locked into Rogeth’s soul and for the tiniest possible length of time Rogeth remembered. He remembered every time he had ever had with Saphara. He remembered his eternal love for her. Silent invisible tears slid down Saphara’s cheek as she kissed Rogeth and remembered him too. Oh how hard it was, not to Fall for this man, this mortal who she had made love to in all the Planes of Time since the Creation. This kiss broke and all that was remembered was forgotten. Time reverberated towards the natural order of things, Saphara breathed, and Rogeth had a hard on. Rogeth pushed himself on the table in a fury. He fumbled with his armor, throwing his sword on the ground. It hit the floor with a metallic clang as his clothing followed suit. In what felt like a hundred years Rogeth was finally naked except for an arm band around his upper bicep. He was covered in a thin misting of dirt, blood, and sweat. His body was rippled in muscles and scars. Rogeth was a barbarian in every sense of the word. His manhood hung heavy and thick with his erection. His balls swayed full of his passion as he made his way to the table. Taking both of her tiny hands in his, Rogeth threw Saphara’s arms back against the table. With a mighty thigh Rogeth parted Saphara’s legs as he bent over the table. He entered her in one swift and hard stroke. Saphara’s body came off the table as she inhaled sharply in what Rogeth mistook for pain. He laid on top of her for a brief moment kissing the sweet hollow of her neck, once again remembering. Quickly he forgot and the kiss turned into a bite. Flexing his hips Rogeth began to furiously pound his pelvis into Saphara’s tight little cave of pleasure. He groaned in satisfaction.
Saphara’s eyes rolled back in her head with her delight. Her body quivered violently as Rogeth violated her. Her breath became labored and she screamed in high pitch tones, and her eyes betrayed her mortal form; her pulsating Celestial eyes began to flash black and white. Rogeth took one of his hands and roughly covered her mouth. He lowered himself to her ear and breathed, “Shut up, little maiden. Shut up and feel what it’s like to be taken by a Viking”. He stuck a hot pointed tongue into her ear which caused her to squirm from the sensitivity. All at once Rogeth roared and pulled himself off of Saphara. Panting, Saphara struggled for breath when all of a sudden she was picked up and flopped over onto her belly. Her toe barely grazed the floor. Rogeth parted the twin white crescents that made her ass so pleasing and entered her cave of pleasure with force. He stuck a thumb into her pink rosebud eliciting a scream from Saphara. He pulled her body back and forth to him harder and harder. Saphara’s ribs heaved in and out in an irregular fashion just as Rogeth panted. Her screams of pain melted into cries of ecstasy as Rogeth unleashed the inner power of passion that resided inside every creature. The walls of her vagina enveloped his mighty cock squeezing it with a juicy grip and coaxed it to release his passion. Rogeth roared and collapsed on top of an unconscious Saphara.
After a short spell had passed, Rogeth pulled his limp and pulsing member from Saphara and noticed that it was completely bathed in her love juices. The bitch likes it rough, he thought. He looked down at her gentle body. For a moment his gazed softened and he feeling of tenderness overcame him. He had gathered the motionless body in his arms and crossed the tent to a pile of oddly fresh furs and laid the woman down. Rogeth laid beside her and held her. Saphara’s large eyes fluttered open, having returned back to mossy brown, and were filled with nothing but pure love. Rogeth returned her gaze and remembered again. “Saphara, my darling Divinity.” Said Rogeth tenderly. Saphara smiled and Rogeth lowered his head to kiss the mouth of the feminine being who he had loved in and out of Time.