Sigrun stared out her tiny window at the snowflakes falling fast and thick against the dark outline of the woods. It was almost time. Soon she would be free of this place — free of this life entirely. She shuddered at the thought of what lay in store for her, what thing, lurking somewhere within or beyond those woods, would soon have her in its terrible grasp.
She looked at her room — her cell. A fire blazed in a small hearth, keeping the place warm against the harsh elements. The walls of the turf hut were thick. At first she had thought she might burrow her way out, tearing fingernails in the process of digging away at the wall, until she realized that the turf covered a layer of stones. It was like she was housed in a burial mound. She was as good as dead as soon as she had arrived, the newest wife of the great king — the latest sacrifice to the terrible monster that haunted his mighty hall.
She heard the scrape of bolts at the door.
Unferth. The heavy door swung open and a hooded figure ducked inside, shaking snowflakes from his cloak. His eyes met hers and then dropped to the floor.
“Wealhtheow, your highness.”
“Wealhtheow is not my name.”
“It is your title, and I must call you by it.” He closed the door behind him, shed his cloak, and stepped toward her. “We don’t have much time. Tonight is the night, the darkest night. Tonight he comes.”
She smiled, not without some bitterness. “I’m glad of it. This is no life. I’m ready to be done with it all.”
“Ready to be done with me?”
“Do we have any choice?”
He took her in his arms, pressed his lips to hers, buried his face in her neck. “I wish we had.”
“Then we will have to enjoy this moment, if it is to be our last.”
Sigrun dropped her shawl and unclasped the brooches that fastened her dress. Unferth pushed the fabric from her shoulders, revealing the creamy white flesh of her breasts, the rosy tips. He took a breast in his mouth, sucking and pulling at it. The feel of his beard against her skin and his hot mouth on her tit, the tug of his lips and tongue on her sensitive nipple, sent a charge running through her. She felt herself getting wet. She let her dress fall to the floor. His hand went to her, fingers gently massaging her moistening cleft, his palm against her clit. She could not help but sigh as her body reacted to his touch and her nerves began to tingle with pleasure. He rubbed harder, and her sighs became moans. He slipped two fingers inside her, and her moans became a gasp.
He laid her down on the pile of sheepskins and furs that served as her bed. Still fucking her with his fingers, he covered her neck and breasts with kisses, sucking her nipples until they were so hard, they hurt. He dropped his mouth to her clit, sucking and licking it until it too was hard and swollen. His movements were slow and steady, like he wanted to prolong the pleasure, to savor her for as long as he could. But she could feel the pressure mounting, felt her body tensing as his teasing lips and tongue brought her closer and closer to a climax. He gradually increased the intensity, pumping her harder with his fingers, relentlessly working her clit. Soon she was writhing under him, her body arching, her pelvis thrusting up to meet his mouth and hand. She could feel sweat springing up on her belly, drenching her loins along with the gushing juices of her cunt. She was right at the edge. When he slid his other fingers into her, filling her with the better part of his hand, he sent her over.
She let out a cry, her body