Chapter Text
Clanking swords, stampeding feet, angry shouts and terrified screams echoed through the palace. Sounds so foreign in this quiet provincial village. The invasion came without warning. There was no time to properly hide, or grab weapons and run. In fact, the king and queen were just sitting down to breakfast when the heavy wooden doors of the palace were forced open by the marauders wielding swords, machetes and heavy armor.
Dylan had been upstairs gathering the queen’s clothing and linens for the laundry when she heard the head housekeeper shouting for everyone to hide. She dove into the armoire, crawling into the dark corner behind all the queen’s beautiful gowns, and pulled her knees to her chest. She grasped the Saint Michael pendant around her neck, given to her by her mother for protection when she left home to enter into the king’s service. It had been an honor to her whole family when her father received a letter, sealed with the king’s signet ring stamped into the wax, summoning Dylan, at the mere age of 16, to live in the palace and work as one of his queen’s handmaidens. She remembered holding onto her sisters as they jumped up and down, squealing with excitement at the idea of her working for the queen and living in the palace, of all places! She would receive the fine silk robes and cotton tunics of the queen’s most trusted servants and dine on the king’s exquisite foods. She would never want for anything, and neither would her family. Her father would be comfortably compensated by the king in gold and luxury goods. Dylan hoped that meant he wouldn’t have to work so hard to provide for his wife and five remaining girls. She knew he loved fishing and being out on the water, but it was also grueling, dangerous, and made her father look much older than his 40 years. She wanted him to slow down, stay home for longer than a few days at a time, be able to give Dylan’s mother that sapphire ring she always looked at wistfully whenever they went into town for supplies and produce.
But now Dylan prayed for their safety. Prayed the rest of the village was safe if the invaders were attacking the palace first. Maybe if they only wanted to plunder the king’s riches, they would take what they wanted and leave the people alone. Suddenly, Dylan was being yanked from her hiding spot. She screamed as a tall brute slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes only to unceremoniously dump her on her back on the pile of laundry she had set in the middle of the room. She tried to get up and run, but he pinned her down with his hips, thighs straddling her body like a vice grip. She squirmed, screaming, desperate for escape. The invader clapped his hand over her mouth.
”Quiet! Or I will give you a reason to scream,” he growled. She recognized that accent and her eyes widened, but she obeyed, giving up the fight. It was useless. He was a Northman, the most feared and fiercest warriors in the known world. They snatched up lands, pillaged and plundered, raped and killed with no remorse, and seemingly no competition. They controlled all of the northern territories and huge swaths of land in the east all the way to the sea. But why were they in Sagecreek, about 100 miles south of their nearest captured territories? Dylan glanced up into the brutal face staring back at her; brown eyes clouded with rage, brow furrowed in steely resolve, dark beard short and neatly trimmed covering his square jaw.
He looked every part the enemy and a huge brute of a man intent on taking what he wanted. Bile rose in her throat knowing what he could, and probably would, do to her, and the fear kicked in again, renewing her determination to get away from this invader. She kicked and bucked her hips, trying to roll her shoulders, anything to loosen his grip on her body, but he had at least ten inches and one hundred pounds on her. He pressed his hips further against her body, right at the apex of her thighs where she felt what he wanted. Dylan stiffened. She knew what these kinds of men did to women. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched him remove the wide leather belt that held his scabbard, then unbutton his pants for his cock to spring free.
He was long and thick, and she was certain that thing was not going to fit inside her. But it didn’t matter what she thought. The brute rucked her skirt up to her waist, spread her thighs wide, and forced himself in. Dylan screamed at the intrusion. Her body wasn’t ready and he was huge; it felt like a steel rod pushing into her most sensitive skin, the veiny ridges scraping against her virginal walls. He seated himself fully inside, then pulled out halfway and plunged in again. She didn’t dare move, allowing him to use her body as he pleased. Every brutal thrust of his hips forced his cock deep, and every retreat pulled at her tight passage as he took what he wanted. Her virginity, his own pleasure, dominance, pure brute Alpha strength making her his slave, forcing submission for his own satiation. Tears streamed from her eyes as the Northman fucked her into the pile of clothes until she felt slick head in her belly. His fingers squeezed into her hips as he sank in to the hilt, shouting his release and coating her insides with his cum.
*****
Roman pulled out and looked down at the girl underneath him. She was panting, face turned to the side and eyes squeezed shut to avoid his gaze. She had long, auburn curls spread across the clothes beneath them, sun-kissed skin proof of the amount of time she must spend outdoors, and symmetrical features that would make any beautiful princess jealous. Her body was toned from physical labor, yet curvy in all the places that mattered, and he found himself wanting to sink his teeth into those thighs, the swell of her breasts.
He was going to let her go. He should let her go. He had just needed an outlet for his aggression. A hot, tight pussy to fuck and dominate and fill until he didn’t feel like he wanted to kill every last one of his shipmates, or run his sword through every corrupt king, bishop and politician of the lands they had conquered. He had expected to find a prostitute or an experienced woman he could use and toss aside, never to see again. He had not expected to find a teenaged virgin handmaiden hiding in the queen’s armoire. But his lust hadn’t allowed him to pause and consider the consequences. Now he wondered what she would look like spread across his bed, or bent over his kitchen counter as he fucked her from behind. He needed to know if her submissiveness was an attempt to save her own life, or if she thrived on being dominated by an Alpha. He most certainly had to have her again.
Before his brain could tell his dick he was potentially making a fatal mistake, Roman pulled the girl to her feet. She straightened her skirt as he hastily put himself back in his pants and fastened his belt again. He needed to get her back to the ship and stowed away in his bedchamber before Mox and the rest of the invading party got their hands on her. Roman grabbed a silky white robe from the armoire and tossed it at the girl.
”Put that on. Hood up,” he commanded. She did as she was told, pulling the hood over her head to hide her face and cinching the robe closed at her waist. Then Roman grabbed the girl’s arm, dragging her through the palace in the opposite direction of the raiding party, and hoping there were no stragglers. Not that he had to explain himself to anyone, but if any of his men got so much as a whiff of new female blood - innocent female blood - there would be a coup. And he would rather spend his free time bedding his new prize than putting down subordinates. He also would prefer not to have to explain to his father why he didn’t come back with as many warriors as left.
The Anoa’i clan never invaded a territory without knowing the lay of the land and the palace. Roman’s father prided himself on being swift, efficient, and as blood-less as possible, but that meant the raiding parties had to know what they were going into. They were to steal the king’s riches, take out the king, queen and their top advisers, and gather up healthy prisoners capable of working the fields and vineyards. In and out before military could be assembled or villagers could round up their weapons. Roman had spent weeks committing this palace layout to memory thanks to the spies who had risked their lives to bring back the blueprints. He guided the girl to the king’s bedchamber, where he knew the closet wall gave way to a secret passage that would lead them to the beach.
Several hundred yards from the ship, Roman stopped short, squeezing the girl’s arm and forcing her behind him. Mox was trolling the beach, sword slung over his bare back, fists clenched at his sides as he paced like a caged animal. Roman loved the guy; he was fearless, powerful, loyal to the side he chose to fight for, and had a knack for emerging victorious from any fight. He was also unpredictable, and Roman had been the one who told him to stay with the ship this time. This town was too small for Mox’s particular skill set, and they didn’t need the villagers even more terrified. Mox had cursed and shoved Roman, but he obeyed orders, as much as he hated them. Friend or not, there was no guarantee a pissed-off Mox wouldn’t demand….incentive for keeping his mouth shut. There was also no guarantee Mox hadn’t spotted them already.
The rest of the raiding party would be back to the ship in the next few minutes, and there would be no hiding this girl. Roman waited for Mox to turn his back, then tossed his captive over his shoulder and sprinted to the entrance ramp on the opposite side of the ship. He set her down only when he reached his room, closing the door and pushing her back up against it. Perhaps with more force than necessary based on the soft oof that left her lips. His dick twitched. God, he had been pent up for far too long if the pained sounds coming from this girl turned him on. His father would say he’s too distracted and controlled by lust, but Roman fucking needed a distraction from all the pressure.
Crowding his captive against the rough wooden door, Roman’s fingers went to her waist, pulling the tie loose. The robe dropped in a silky pool at their feet, and immediately his strong hands were shredding the simple cotton dress from her body, leaving her fully exposed. Hungry eyes raked up and down her compact body; breasts large enough to fill his palms, pink nipples hardening to peaks in the cool air, tight abs flaring into perfectly rounded hips, and an ass he wanted to scrape red with his beard. Later. Because right now his dick needed attention before they set sail again.
With a growl, Roman gripped her waist, turned her to face the door, and quickly pushed his pants down his legs. With one hand braced on the door and the other on her lower abdomen, Roman slid a knee between her thighs, forced her ass out, and surged up into her abused core.
*****
Pain ripped through Dylan’s pelvis, sharp yet fleeting, but enough to bring tears to her eyes. She let them fall as the brutal warrior rutted into her from behind and her new reality set in. Every savage thrust branded her his slave, hard cock carving a path through her channel like it was made for him. Dylan dropped her cheek against the door, planting her palms on either side of it, and let him do as he pleased. She told herself it was self-preservation; that she was no good to her family dead so she would do what her captor demanded in order to stay alive. He could have her body but would never own her soul.
Still, she moaned when the hand on her stomach slid down to rub at her clit, sending electric jolts straight to her loins. His heavy balls slapping at her ass forcing soft gasps from her throat. The undeniable pleasure of his rough thumb toying with her clit. His enormous erection sliding along her over-sensitive vaginal walls. It was all too much. Heat flamed in her belly, exploding in her cunt.
Dylan sobbed as her body betrayed her, soaking his cock as he continued to fuck her. His arm wrapped around her waist to hold up her now-boneless body. Just a few more urgent pumps of his hips and he was spilling into her rippling cunt. She let him manhandle her exhausted body, eyes fluttering closed. The last thing she remembered was hearing his heavy breathing in her ear and the whine she emitted when his soft cock pulled out of her swollen pussy.