When he next struck she could only close her eyes in pain. She could then scarcely breathe. She gasped. No longer could she howl or scream. She tensed, teeth gritted, her body itself a silent scream of agony. But the blow did not then fall. Was the beating done. Then she was struck again. The last five blows were de livered with her hanging in the binding fiber, her body against the post, her face to one side of it. She was then released from the post and fell to her hands and knees. The beating had been quite light, only twenty strokes. Yet I did not think it would be soon that the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar would wish to find herself again at the post. The beating had been, though light, quite adequate to its purpose, which was to teach her, a captive, the whip.
No female forgets it.
She looked up at the Forkbeard in misery.
“Bring her clothing,” said the Forkbeard.
It was brought.
“Garb yourself,” said the Forkbeard.
Painfully, almost unable to stand, tears in her eyes, inch by inch, the girl drew on her garments.
She then stood there among us, bent over, tears staining her cheeks. She wore the dress of green velvet trimmed with gold, it torn from the collar, it ripped at the right side.
She looked at him.
“Remove your clothing,” he said.
She stripped herself.
“Gather the clothing,” said the Forkbeard.
She dld so.
“Go now to the kitchen of the hall,” said he. “In the fire there, burn your clothing, completely.”
“Yes, Ivar Forkbeard,” she said.
“Gunnhild will accompany you,” he said. “When you have burned your garments, every bit of them, then beg Gunnhild to set you about your duties.”
“What duties, my Jarl,” asked Gunnhild.
“Tonight we feast,” said Ivar Forkbeard. “The feast must be prepared.”
“She is to help prepare the feast?” asked Gunnhild.
“And serve it,” said the Forkbeard.
“I see, then, the nature of her duties,” said Gunnhild, smiling.
“Yes,” said Ivar Forkbeard. He regarded Hilda. “You will beg Gunnhild to set you about the duties of a bond-maid.”
“Yes,” said she, “Ivar Forkbeard.”
“Hurry now,” laughed he.
Weeping, clutching her clothing, she ran to the hall. The men and bond-maids laughed muchly. I, too, roared with laughter. Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, had been taught to obey.
The shrieking of Pouting Lips, as she yielded to Gorm, supine, kicking in the furs, rang through the low, smoking hall.
I thrust Thyri from my lap, and seized Olga by the wrist, as she hurried past, throwing her across my knees. She, laughing, was fleeing Ottar who, drunkenly, was stumbling after her. I pulled Olga’s face to mine and our lips met, I forcing my kiss to her teeth. Her naked body, collared, suddenly responded to mine, and she reached for me with her hands. “MyJarl!” she whispered. But I thrust her up, holding her by the arms, into the hands of Ottar, who, laughing, tbrew her lightly over his shoulder and turned about. I saw her head and shoulders, and her body, to the waist, over his shoulder, her small fists pounding meaninglessly on his back. He carried her into the darkness and threw her to the furs. “MyJarl,” whimpered Thyri, crouching beside me, touching me. With a laugh, she crying out with pleasure, I took again the young lady of Kassau, the bond-maid, Thyri, in my arms.
Pretty Ankles hurried past, carrying a great trencher of roast meat on her small shoulder.
“Mead!” called Ivar Forkbeard, from across from me.
“Mead!” He held out the great, curved horn, with its rim fillgreed gold.
Pudding and Gunnhild knelt on the bench, snuggli~ against him, one on either side. But they did not run to fet~ his mead. That duty, this night, befell another.
Hilda the Haughty, ~daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, stripped as any bond-maid, from a large bronze vess~ poured mead for the Forkbeard.
The men laughed.
She, though free, poured mead as a bond-maid. The h~ roared with pleasure. Mighty insult had thus been wroug] upon Thorgard of Scagnar, enemy of Ivar Forkbeard. H daughter, stripped, poured mead in the hall of his enemie.
Too, they had taught her to heel and obey. Rich was tl pleasure of Ivar Forkbeard.
He reached out his hand, to touch the daughter of Tho gard of Scagnar.
She shrank back, terrified.
The Forkbeard looked upon her, amused. “Would you n care to play in the furs?” he asked her.
“No,” she said, shuddering.
“Let me play,” whimpered Pudding. “Let me play,” whimpered Gunnhild.
“Do not misunderstand me, Ivar Forkbeard,” whispere Hilda. If you order me to the furs I shall obey you, an swlftly. I will comply with your slightest wish, exactly an promptly. I will do whatever I am told.”
Pudding and Gunnhild laughed.
Ottar stumbled up, putting his hand on one of the post~ By a length of ship’s rope, he had tied Olga to his belt. Sh looked at me; her eyes shone; her lips were parted; she pu out her hand; I paid her no attention; she looked down, fis clenched, and whimpered. I smiled. I would use her befor the night was done.
“It is said,” intoned Ottar, “that Hilda the Haughty daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, is the coldest of women.’
“Do you find men of interest?” asked the Forkbeard c.
“No,” she said. “I do not.”
Ottar laughed.
“Are you not curious,” asked Ivar of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, “what it would be to feel on your body their hands, their mouths?”
‘sMen are beasts!” she cried.
“Their teeth?” he asked.
“Men are hateful,” she wept. “They are terrible beasts, using girls as their prey!” She looked about at the bondmaids. “Resist them!” she cried. “Resist them!”
Pudding threw back her head and laughed. “Resistance is not permitted,” she laughed.
“Throw her in the furs,” cried Pretty Ankles. “Then she will learn whether she knows what she is telling about or not.
“Throw her in the furs,” cried another bond-maid. “Throw her in the furs,” called yet another.
“Throw her in the furs,” cried the bond-maids.
Hilda shuddered, terrified.
“Silence!” called out Ivar Forkbeard.
There was silence.
“What,” asked Ivar Forkbeard of Hilda, “if I should order you to the furs?”
“I would obey you immediately,” she said. “I have felt the whip,” she explained.
“But of your own free will you would be unlikely to enter upon the furs?” asked Ivar.
“Of course not,” she said.
— Gorm, who had now disentangled himself from Pouting Lips, joined the circle about the table, where we sat, others standing. She was behind him, combing her hair with a comb of horn.
“She is Hilda the Haughty,” laughed Ottar. “She is the coldest of women!”
Hilda stood straight, her head high.
“Ottar, Gorm,” said the Forkbeard. “Take her to the ice shed. Leave her there, bound hand and foot.”
The bond-maids shrieked with pleasure. Men pounded their left shoulders with the palms of their right hand ~ome pounded their plates on the heavy boards of the wooden table.
Ottar delayed only long enough to untie Olga from h belt. He had tied her there by ship’s rope, knotted about h~ stomach. He left the rope about her stomach, but, with i free end, pulling her arms about one of the roof posts, tie her hands together.
He then left, following Gorm, who had dragged Hild from the hall.
She tried futilely to free herself. She looked at me, agc nized. “Untie me,” she begged.
I looked at her.
“My body wants you, Tarl Red Hair,” she wept. “My body needs you!”
I looked away from her, paying her no more attention. I heard her moan, and rub her body on the post.
“I need you Tarl Red Hair,” she whimpered.
I would let her smolder for another Ahn or two. By thal time her body would be ready. To my slightest touch it would leap, helpless, squirming, in my arms. I would use her twice, the second time in the lengthy use of the Gorean master, that use in which, over an Ahn, the female slave or bond-maid is shown no mercy.
“Mead!” I called. Pretty Ankles rushed to serve me. I again bent to kiss the lips of Thyri.