Description
The Viking’s Prize, by Jezebel Rose
Astrid, daughter of Warlord Red Fist, crept into a cave far to the north.
Wind blew up swirls of snow as hail pelted from the skies.
Trying to find shelter, Astrid had not come prepared for such a storm.
Wearing tight deerskin moccasins and a single buffalo pelt, she looked out over the wastelands. She saw nothing but ice.
Astrid reached into her leather hide backpack, finding something to burn. Finally, her fingers found the book her father gave her to read. It was a book from far across the ocean to the east.
Even though she was still young, Astrid held her head high for a woman. Her lineage was strong, and the family line pure. Next in line to become Queen of the North, young Astrid preferred to stay by herself. She enjoyed the solemn wilds, even though sometimes they were brutal, and difficult to deal with.
Holding tightly onto the book, Astrid smacked a firestone against flint, igniting the book into flames.
She waited out the storm for many hours, slowly adding bits of frozen wood to her fire. “May the spirits help me…” she whispered into the flames.
As the storm died down, as did Astrid and the flame. Into the night she slept until she awoke to the sound of a horn in the distance.
It was the war horn of her clan, three in a row, long like a bow.
Rubbing her hands over the coals, Astrid stared out of the cave and across the land once again.
For as far as she could see, was ice. Flat, hard, ice.
Her father had told her to stay near the camp in case of an attack with the several rival clans around them. For many years, he told her the stories of his victories against the men, which was, at least up until his death, several years ago.
Astrid heard the howl of the wind as she crept out of the cave, turned south, and continued out of the side of a mountain. The white trees turned grey, then eventually green and luscious as she continued her journey back to home.
The sound of something massive falling to the ground filled Astrid’s ears.
Quickly darting behind a tree, she noticed several men rushing towards their prey; a large boar with long white tusks. The size it was, it could easily feed a small village for at least a day.
Astrid watched the men from a distance. They were not from her clan. It was quite obvious, they each wore a large wooden star on their chest, and covered their bodies with leaves so that they would blend into the environment.
Knowing these things, Astrid shrunk back against the thick oak tree. She did not want to be heard. However, fate had its own plans.
Not a moment went by before a walked in front of Astrid, standing there just a few feet away, watching and staring at her.
Within the second moment, two arrows shot past Astrid and slammed into the deer’s heart.
Hearing the men walk closer, Astrid know that she had to either fight or run.
Being a strong woman, preparing to become a shield maiden, she jumped out from behind the tree with a bow, sinking two shots into one of the men before they even had a chance to react.
The man on the right received an arrow to the arm as he grabbed his war axe and threw it at Astrid, barely missing her.
The second man rushed from behind the other side of the tree, slamming Astrid to her knees.
“Bitch,” she heard them say as they spat on the back of her head.
Astrid felt the first and second kick into her belly, but not the third or fourth. Reeling in pain, the two men pelted her with blows repeatedly as the woman crouched into a ball, prepared to die.
“Please… stop… please!”
Screaming as loud as she could, she felt as if it was her last hope even though she knew that nobody from her camp would ever venture this far to the north.
Her mouth received a heavy blow from the man that threw the axe. His beard was long and hung low to his chest. His horned helmet struck fear into Astrid’s heart, as she knew this man was one of the bloodiest murderers around, and only commanded by the High Warlord Brock.
Another blow slammed into her chest as she felt the men pull off her hides, revealing her body before the two men.
Through bloodied eyes, she looked down at the large war axes at each man’s side.
Quickly snapping her hand out, Astrid grabbed the axe and stuck it right into the man’s chest, pushing him off her and throwing him back. Barely able to stand, she drowsily saw the last man in her vision, rushing towards her.
Astrid dodged out of the way, throwing the axe at the man’s back, but at the last second, he moved out of the way and smashed into her, throwing her against a tree.
“Move and you die,” the man whispered as he held a knife to her throat.
Astrid went limp, as she was not ready to die.
She watched the man pull his deerskin trousers down to his knees, freely letting his cock fly out, hard as a hard and straight as an arrow.
“Please, I am the daughter of Warlord Red Fist!”
“I know who you are bitch,” the man grunted as Astrid watched his tattooed head move down between her legs.
“God damn you have a tight little cunt,” he laughed, “I’m going to stretch out your little purse whether you like or fucking not!”
His dick smashed into Astrid, tearing away her hymen with a single jab. Pain flourished between her legs as blood shot from her virgin pussy, engorging the man’s thick cock with her fluids.
Groaning as the man pressed harder on her neck with his arm, Astrid struggled to breathe, pulling at his massive, muscular tattooed arm. She saw the viper on his hand, curled around, baring his fangs with two axes across the snakes.
Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose
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