Chapter Eleven
Kristin stood at the helm of the vessel she still considered hers alone, despite the laughter of her two Celtic lovers as they secured the final bales of furs that would make up the bulk of their cargo for this first voyage. She watched them as they worked, both bare chested in the early summer sunshine, so alike yet in her mind so different.
Nyle was calm, the peacemaker. All liked him, his ready smile and quick wit endeared him to everyone he met. He was optimistic, cheerful, resourceful—qualities that had brought him safe through his ordeal as an oar slave.
Bowdyn was more taciturn, his wit dryer, his demeanour more serious than that of his brother. His anger at the wrong done to him and to his family by the Vikings still burned deep, but he was no fool and could see beyond his initial desire for revenge. He might never make friends here as easily as Nyle, but he would survive. His intelligence was keen, his aptitude for trade as strong as his innate skill with horses.
Both her Celts were strong, hard-working, courageous, and they had honed their fighting skills under Mathios’ direction. They would be an asset on the voyage. Indeed, she could not imagine embarking on her journey without them beside her.
And now, now she had other reasons to welcome their presence. Her belly clenched when she relived the pleasure she had experienced at their hands. They had promised more. Much, much more. Kristin could barely wait.
“Is all set?”
Kristin swung around to wave at Merewyn, who stood on the jetty, Mathios’ small sons hanging on to each of her hands. “Yes, just those final bales, then we shall load the supplies.”
“You will be able to purchase additional food when you reach England.”
“I know. We are taking only sufficient to make the crossing. This allows more space for our cargo.”
Merewyn nodded. “I shall miss you. All of you…”
Kristin hitched up her skirts and balanced for a moment on the rail at the prow of the small craft, judging the precise moment to leap for the jetty, when the boat bobbed low in the water. It was a manoeuvre she had practised much of late and she landed nimbly beside her friend. “I shall miss you too. You believed in my endeavours before anyone else did. Had you not advanced me the funds…”
“You would have found them elsewhere. But I am glad that you did not. I expect to profit well from this.”
“I promise to do my utmost to ensure that you do.”
“And will you do your utmost to bring my brothers back to me unharmed?”
Kristin laughed. “I do not believe I hold the influence you suppose, but I shall do my best.”
“They may not say so, but I know they like you. They hold you in high esteem…”
Well, that is one way to describe it, certainly. Kristin kept her smile neutral. “I respect them, too and I am sure we will do very well together.”
Merewyn appeared satisfied. “You will eat with us this evening. It will be our final nattmal together for months and Rowena is planning a feast to send you on your way with our good wishes.”
“I would not miss it.” Not least because the cooking pot that hung above her own fire pit had yet to contain anything but water.
* * *
The meal continued long into the evening as Mathios and Merewyn’s household thralls, under Rowena’s sharp-eyed direction, brought plate after plate to the table. Breads, meats, eggs and cheese, fruit and nuts appeared, all washed down by mugs of mead or ale with buttermilk for the children. By the time she set her eating dagger aside, Kristin was convinced she would never need to eat again.
“That was delicious. Thank you.”
“Could you manage a little more bread and honey?” urged Rowena.
“No, I really could not.” She smiled at Mathios, who occupied his usual place at the head of the table, Merewyn by his side. “I thank you, Jarl, for your hospitality, both this night and over the last few months.”
Mathios raised his mug to her. “You are most welcome. I have been richly entertained during your time here, Kristin, though I can barely contain my astonishment that you have agreed to allow these two oafs to accompany you.” He sent a low-browed look toward Nyle and Bowdyn at the far end of the table. “I trust you will all manage to avoid murdering one another and sinking that fine vessel you have constructed.”
“We shall certainly try, Jarl, though I do not envisage it will always be easy.” Kristin started to rise from her seat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall retire. We sail at first light.”
“Of course.” Mathios stood at the same time as she did and wrapped her in a hard hug. “Take care and come back to us safe. And wealthy.”
“That is my plan, Jarl.”
She had barely reached the door before she heard the scraping of more seats. Kristin glanced back, unsurprised to see her Celts also making their goodbyes. “We shall escort Kristin back to her longhouse,” offered Bowdyn.
“I doubt she will meet with any serious mishap in the thirty paces it will take her to reach her own dwelling,” observed the jarl.
“Even so, we shall walk with her.”
Kristin waited outside for the men to join her. “I thought we agreed on discretion,” she hissed when they stood before her.
“Did we?” Nyle shrugged. “I do not recall that. Do you, brother?”
“No,” confirmed Bowdyn. “In fact, I distinctly recall we told you we had no interest at all in the opinions of Vikings. We will behave as we see fit.”
“Well, yes, but…”
Nyle slung his arm across her shoulders. “I hope you are not about to become quarrelsome, little Viking.” He started to steer her in the direction of her own dwelling. “My brother mentioned to me earlier that in his view a decent spanking would improve your disposition and make you more agreeable. It would not do to test that theory on the eve of our first great adventure together.”
“I do not agree,” protested Bowdyn, falling in step beside them. “This would be an excellent time. We should start as we mean to go on.”
“Mean to go on.” Kristin halted in her tracks. “You are not going to spank me!”
“Are you sure, little Viking?” Nyle leaned in to murmur into her ear. “Are you truly certain of that?”
Was she? Of course! But if that were truly the case, what might be the explanation for the curious shiver that ran down her spine at the Celtic brothers’ sensual promises? Or the clenching in her nether regions? In particular, how could she account for the sudden wetness between her thighs? Kristin sought answers to all these anomalies as she allowed herself to be escorted to her door.
“You should not come in,” she whispered when they arrived there. “Someone might see…”
Bowdyn shrugged. “Would you prefer we fuck you out here? I am quite convinced we would attract much more attention were we to try that approach.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” she hissed.
“Kristin is right. It is much too cold to contemplate such a notion.” Nyle reached around her to open the door. “Come, we shall build a fire and make ourselves comfortable within.”
Kristin stood in the middle of her home, her hands on her hips and her irritation rising almost as quickly as her apprehension. She watched as the Celts set about the homey tasks of tending to the fire, lighting lamps and helping themselves to her—well, Merewyn’s—mead. Once matters were arranged to their apparent satisfaction, Nyle sat astride the bench she had set closest to the fire pit and beckoned her to approach. Uncertain what else she might do, Kristin obeyed.
He tilted his head to one side and gazed up at her. “You appear somewhat confused, Kristin. And perhaps even a little scared.”
“I am not afraid of you,” she retorted.
“Good. That is as it should be.”
“I am just…” She paused, drew in a breath, “I am not sure what you want me to do. This is all so… so strange to me. I do not know what you expect.”
“We expect you to obey us.” This from Bowdyn, who had approached to stand behind her. “Did we not mention this yesterday?”
“Yes. No… I am not quite sure…”
“Your memory is not usually so unreliable. A spanking will help with that.”
Kristin did not agree but chose instead to take issue with his suggestion that her recollection of events was flawed. “I do remember. I remember that you described me as strong-willed and obstinate.”
“Yes, and those are fine qualities for one engaged in trade. They are less needful in a woman who seeks to please her men.”
“But how? How can I please you? I have no idea what to do.”
“You were wed, were you not? A recent widow when first we met.”
“I do not think my husband shared my bed on more than a half dozen occasions, and even then, he was never…”
Bowdyn cupped her face between both his palms and ceased her halting explanation with a kiss. Just as he had the previous evening, he silenced her with his lips and Kristin melted in his arms.
His tongue probed her mouth as before, the intimacy causing her to clench even more. Bowdyn broke the kiss and nuzzled the end of his nose against hers. “We will tell you what you should do, and you will do it. Yes?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please.”
Bowdyn stepped a pace back and folded his arms. His handsome features took on a sternness she was beginning to recognise. “I intend to spank you. Nyle will watch, and you may rely on him to ensure you remain still and as quiet as possible while you are punished. Then, when you are ready to accept instruction with rather less in the way of argument, we shall proceed to more pleasant pursuits. You will suck my cock, and at the same time Nyle will fuck you.”
She could only gape at him. Kristin had no problem in comprehending his words, but the acts he described were quite beyond her limited experience.
“I believe you have shocked our little Viking, brother. You must learn to be more delicate.” Nyle rose from the bench to trail the backs of his fingers down Kristin’s cheek. “But even so, you should now gather your wits and obey, little one. You may start by removing your clothes.”
This she did understand readily enough. Almost grateful to receive an instruction she could carry out with ease, Kristin started to loosen the pin holding her cloak in place. Nyle assisted her by taking the garment and laying it over the bench he had vacated. At his raised eyebrow she picked at the laces securing her overdress and soon that lay next to her cloak. She stood before them clad in just her thin cotton under-tunic.
“Sit,” commanded Bowdyn.
She did so, and he knelt before her to remove her shoes and stockings. One by one he cradled her bare feet and kissed her toes. Kristin blinked, astonished at the contrast between the stern, dominant male who insisted he was about to spank her, and the tender lover who treated her with such reverence.
He settled back on his haunches to meet her puzzled gaze. “I shall sit on the bench and you will lie across my lap. When you are quite ready, you will reach back and lift your tunic up so that your bottom is bared. Then you will remain quiet while I punish you, and you will endeavour to keep still.”
“Will it hurt?”
He nodded. “Aye, it will hurt. But you will not be harmed. We will never harm you.”
“I know that you will not, but…”
“The quicker we deal with your introduction to a decent spanking, the sooner we may move on to something you may find more to your liking.”
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I am a woman grown, not a child…” Even so, when Bowdyn patted his thigh she saw no other course but to fold herself down over his lap with as much decorum as she might muster. “This is embarrassing. Please, just be quick about it.”
“I shall endeavour to be speedy, but of course I have no way of knowing just how much chastisement will be required to achieve the necessary degree of contrition. I do fear this may be a long job.”
Nyle pulled up a low stool and set it close to her shoulder. “I daresay you are right, brother. She does not look in the least repentant yet.”
Kristin squirmed, her humiliation mounting. “What are you two babbling about?”
Nyle grinned. “Please do not concern yourself with that now, Kristin. If you would just raise your tunic, we shall deal with the rest. I believe we may need to start by teaching you the proper and respectful way to address your men.”
Kristin reached back and grasped the hem of her tunic. She glared at Nyle as she drew it upward.
“What do you mean? I shall address you as I… Aaaagh!” Her protests were interrupted by a heavy slap to her exposed bottom. Kristin was incensed at the indignity of it, not to mention that fact that the slap hurt a lot more than she might have anticipated. She attempted to wriggle free but Bowdyn’s arm about her waist held her firm.
“That hurts. Let me go, I—”
“Maybe you should arrange your leg to hold both of hers, brother. I fear our little she-Viking may be about to put up a fight.”
Despite her frantic struggles and spluttered expletives Bowdyn was able to trap both her legs under one of his. Her stomach rested upon his thigh, and he had but to raise that leg a little to lift up her bottom to place her at the perfect angle where his spanks might rain down freely upon her unprotected behind. He duly did so, and Kristin could do nothing but howl as he set her arse alight.
Nyle leaned forward and laid his hand gently across her mouth. “You may scream and squall if you wish, but do you really want to alert the entire village to your predicament?”
“Then let me go,” she spat when he lifted his hand from her lips.
Nyle shook his head. “Do you consider her sufficiently warmed up, brother?”
“I do.” Bowdyn responded from above her and out of her peripheral vision. All she could see now, through a tear-filled haze, was Nyle’s dark-eyed countenance as he leaned in close to better scrutinise her features.
“In that case, would you like to avail yourself of my belt? I believe she could tolerate a decent lick of leather across her pretty arse and it may do her some good.”
“My thanks,” replied Bowdyn. “I think that would do the job well enough.”
“B-belt?” Kristin started to squirm even more as panic threatened to engulf her. Never a particularly small or delicate woman, these men were both twice her size, there were two of them, and they intended to lay into her with a belt. “No, you cannot! Please… please, let me go…”
Nyle rose to his feet and quickly removed his belt. He folded the strap in two and handed it to Bowdyn, then he crouched before Kristin and took her face between his hands as Bowdyn had earlier. “Be still, little Viking. Stop fighting and accept what you cannot change. This is to be the way of it between us. You know the rewards, but now you must learn the consequences of belligerence and disrespect. It hurts, I know that, but Bowdyn will not harm you. I would not allow it. On another occasion, when it falls to me to punish you, he will protect you as well. You have only to trust us, Kristin.”
“I… I…” She had no answer, no idea what to say in response to his earnest expression. She saw compassion there, in his ebony-coloured eyes, but sternness too. She would be punished, there was no escaping that, but she would also be safe. Nyle had promised, Bowdyn too. And he had spanked her before, but she had survived to tell the tale.
“Do you trust us?” Nyle prompted, his tone gentle now.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I trust you.”
He smiled and used his thumbs to wipe some of her tears from her eyes. “We continue, then. And you will submit.”
She managed a feeble nod. Nyle glanced up at his brother. “She is ready.”
Bowdyn’s hand had been hard and heavy but was as nothing compared to the fiery bite of Nyle’s belt. He brought the strap down again and again across her tender backside, alternating between her right buttock and her left, then moving down to the backs of her thighs. The scorching intensified, each stroke setting alight a new trail of fire to ripple over her punished flesh, but she managed to contain her screams after a fashion. Mindful of the other inhabitants of Agnartved who might still be out and about, she managed to shove her fist in her mouth and muffled her own cries. The pain was intense, but bearable—just.
I am sorry. Stop, please, please stop…
“Hold.” Nyle’s low tone penetrated her anguished senses. Incredibly, the strapping ceased. Her bottom was alight, she lay spent, gasping, sobbing quietly.
Nyle cupped her chin once more. “You said something, Kristin. We would hear it again.”
“I… I…” Had she spoken? She could not remember…
“Your apology? Or was I mistaken?”
She shook her head, confused. She had thought it, but not spoken the words out loud. Except, she must have because he knew. The final shreds of defiance crumbled.
“I am sorry,” she repeated. “I was rude and… and peevish with you both. I will try to do better.”
“How prettily she apologises,” remarked Bowdyn. “I expect we will find it necessary to spank her regularly to ensure she remains polite and agreeable.”
“Without doubt her manners are improved,” Nyle agreed. “She responds well to a sore bottom. I wonder what other benefits the experience might offer. Is she wet?”
Bowdyn slid his hand between her thighs and stroked his palm the length of her slit. Kristin cried out at the unexpected rush of sensation as a bolt of pure, undiluted pleasure rippled through her.
“Yes. She is dripping wet. See for yourself.” As Nyle shifted around to better peruse her exposed nether regions, Bowdyn tapped her bottom with his palm. “Spread your legs, Kristin. Allow us to see how much your body relished being properly chastised.”
What might he mean now? The Celt spoke in riddles, but Kristin obeyed even so. She spread her legs apart to permit the inspection they both seemed intent upon.
“So plump and pink. She is exquisite, our little Viking.” Nyle drew his fingertips around the entrance to her channel, then slid one digit deep within her. “Ah, so hot and tight and wet, as you say.” He withdrew his finger. “You did well, brother. Her bottom is beautifully marked from my belt. I assume you have done with it, for now?”
“I have.” Bowdyn picked up the strap from where he had laid it on the floor and passed it back to Nyle. “My thanks. And you, Kristin, you may get up if you like.”
She was not at all sure she did like. Kristin could have lain there all night had Nyle continued to slide his finger in and out of her entrance or had Bowdyn resumed his exploring caresses. But they did neither. Bowdyn aided her to her feet and she stood before them, shaken, confused and more aroused than she could ever recall.
“You remember what I promised you would follow your spanking?”
Kristin had to think for a moment. Her head cleared, his words came back to her. Bowdyn had indeed been most explicit.
“I am to suck your cock while Nyle fucks me.”
His lip quirked. “I am glad that you were listening. Go wait for us in your bed. We shall extinguish the lamps and bank down the fire then we will join you.”
It was only as she knelt upon her pallet, the illumination from a single lamp flickering on the shelf above her head as she awaited their company that she realised they intended to remain with her all night. Even yesterday she might have protested, sought to assert her own will. Not this night, not now. Not anymore. Her throbbing, swollen bottom was only part of the reason she accepted their decision without question. Somehow, she had begun to think of them as not mere Celts, not freed thralls, not even handsome lovers who she might enjoy. They had become men, dominant men to be obeyed and who in turn would cherish, protect, and care for her. It was a circumstance she found not unwelcome after so many years of having to rely on none but herself.
She turned her head as the curtain that separated her sleeping chamber from the rest of the longhouse was lifted. Nyle entered, wearing just his woollen trousers. The angles and planes of his bare torso caught in the flickering light of the oil lamp were testimony to the years of arduous labour chained to an oar, but the man she beheld truly was a breath-taking male. Bowdyn followed his brother, also stripped to the waist and equally enticing to behold. Her cunny clenched, her stomach fluttered. Despite her exhilaration, Kristin swallowed nervously.
“Remove your tunic,” commanded Nyle. “Then you will stand up.”
Her fingers shook a little as she obeyed him. Moments later she stood before them, naked.
“Turn around.” This time it was Bowdyn who instructed her.
Kristin turned, and waited.
“She has pale skin. The marks of the belt are vivid, but they will fade quickly enough. We shall have to replenish them before too long,” observed Nyle.
“Yes. She would benefit from a switching from time to time. Did we think to include some branches in our cargo, brother?”
“We did not,” replied Bowdyn. “I shall see to it before we sail.”
“No matter. There are fine switches to be cut in England, and that is our first destination. We will be assured of plentiful supplies.”
Nyle stepped toward her in the narrow confines of her sleeping chamber. He stood behind her and lifted the heavy blonde plait that hung over her shoulder and started to unravel it. Kristin stood motionless and allowed him to release her hair from its usual confines. He spread it over her shoulders like a flaxen cloak.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, bending to bury his nose in the curling strands. He reached around her to cup her breasts in his hands and pressed them closer together. “So lovely…”
Her nipples swelled into hard pebbles and poked between his fingers. Nyle continued to toy with them as Bowdyn moved round and onto her pallet. He knelt down, his back resting against the outer wall of the dwelling and gazed up at his brother’s play.
“When you have quite finished…” he grumbled.
“My brother is impatient to feel your lips around his cock,” murmured Nyle. “Perhaps we should not keep him waiting.” He relinquished his hold on her breasts and stepped to the side, his powerful arms folded across his chest. “Kneel down between Bowdyn’s legs and open his trousers to release his cock.”
The instruction was clear enough. Kristin sank to her knees as directed and reached for the fastenings on Bowdyn’s trousers. She could readily discern the bulge within his clothing, but still let out a small gasp when his erection sprang free.
Bowdyn’s cock was beautiful, the skin smooth and adorned with a network of raised veins. The bulbous crown was already slick with the juices that trickled from the slit at the end. Her husband’s attentions had been perfunctory and usually conducted in the dark. This was the first opportunity she had had to study such an organ in detail and she was stunned by the sheer wonder of it.
“You are magnificent,” she breathed. From the occasional glance she had caught she had assumed Baldvin to be of average proportions but clearly, he was not. Or perhaps Celts were simply… bigger.
“I am sure my brother appreciates your compliment. Now, if you please, you will grip his cock in your fist and rub your fingers up and down.”
Kristin was delighted to do so. She grasped the shaft firmly. Her fingers did not meet around it but rather than employ both hands she used her free one to cup the balls that hung beneath. She was astonished at the softness of the skin as she squeezed lightly.
Bowdyn let out a groan. Kristin loosened her grip. “Did I do something wrong?” She looked from Bowdyn to Nyle for guidance.
“No,” growled Bowdyn. “Nothing wrong…”
Nyle lowered himself to his haunches behind her. “Grip hard. Yes. Like that. If he groans that is a good sign. Lean forward, take the head in your mouth.”
Kristin opened her mouth wide to be able to do as Nyle instructed. The tangy, salty flavour of the liquid filled her senses.
“How does that taste?” Nyle had leaned in close to murmur in her ear.
“Strange,” she replied, lifting her head to enable herself to speak, “but pleasant.”
“Good. Lean forward and lift up your bottom. Take him as deep as you can. Yes, like that, and work with your hands, too.”
As Kristin concentrated on obeying the instructions she was given, Bowdyn reached for her and combed his fingers through her tangled hair. “Look at me,” he commanded.
She did so. He smiled, then his gaze shifted to his brother who was now behind her. “She’s ready for you to fuck her now.”
Kristin blinked, then startled when Nyle laid his palm on her still-throbbing buttock.
“Spread your legs wide for him,” encouraged Bowdyn, “and keep your bottom up nice and high.”
They are twins. Is Nyle as huge as Bowdyn? Will he fit…?
Bowdyn must have seen the panic in her eyes because he stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “Relax. No harm will come to you.”
Nyle was kneeling behind her now. At some stage he had removed his own trousers because his cock was at her entrance, pushing, pressing…
No, not his cock. His fingers. His gentle, skilled fingers entered her as before, first one, then two, then a third. The sounds of her wetness, her arousal, reached her ears. Kristin was embarrassed despite the waves of pleasure created by his touch. Lust, however, rapidly overcame any residual shreds of modesty. She clenched, swayed her hips from side to side, sought to press back against his hand.
Nyle withdrew his fingers and she groaned around Bowdyn’s cock.
“She is impatient, brother. Our little Viking wants you inside her. Is that right, Kristin?”
She nodded, the movement small, barely perceptible but Bowdyn saw. He glanced up at Nyle, gave a brief but decisive nod of his own. Nyle pivoted his hips forward and drove his cock deep into her channel.
Kristin moaned, the sound completely muffled by the other cock that filled her mouth. She knew a brief moment of panic as sensation threatened to overwhelm her, but Bowdyn’s hand against her scalp held her steady and grounded her.
“Slow, easy, be still. Breathe,” he commanded. “You can do this.”
He was right. She could. Her sudden burst of alarm receded. She swallowed, wrapped her tongue around Bowdyn’s cock, and lapped at it.
“Suck,” he murmured.
She did. He tightened his grip in her hair and thrust his hips forward.
Kristin grasped his waist and hung on as he began to take charge. He found a rhythm, driving his cock in and out, a little deeper with each stroke until the crown reached the back of her throat. Kristin thought she might choke, but he never allowed it to come to that, pulling back each time and permitting her the gulps of air she needed.
All the while, Nyle remained motionless within her. He filled her. Her inner walls stretched about his wide girth, but he did not thrust. He demanded nothing of her but that she accept his solid presence inside her. Only when Bowdyn had established his own rhythm and Kristin was coping with that did Nyle add his contribution.
He used his thumbs to part her punished buttocks and Kristin tensed when he perused her most private rear hole. He laid his thumb over the furled ring of muscle, gently rubbed, but no more than that. He withdrew his cock halfway then slowly drove it back again. The next stroke was longer, his re-entry slower as she stretched to accept him, her inner walls reshaping around his cock.
It was intense, the sensation again threatening to consume, to overwhelm her. But he was slow, achingly gentle, timing his strokes to somehow match those of Bowdyn. As her mouth emptied, her cunt was filled, and when Nyle slid back Bowdyn drove his cock to the back of her throat. It was a sensual, intimate dance, and Kristin was rapidly captivated by the perfect symmetry of it.
She rolled her hips and squeezed, as though she might build the friction. She craved more sensation, more… anything. Everything.
Nyle knew. Somehow, he understood her need and he reached beneath and between her thighs to find her engorged clitty. He squeezed the swollen bud, rolled it between his fingers, withdrew and thrust back hard.
Bowdyn grasped her hair, tugging at it to force her head back and her jaw to open wider. He was fucking her face as Nyle fucked her cunt, both of them demanding, giving, controlling her every sensation.
Her pleasure mounted. Her body shuddered, began to convulse. She clenched and contracted around Nyle’s cock, sucked hard on Bowdyn’s. Her body was searching, craving, soaring…
“Aaagh,” she gurgled as her climax seized her. Bowdyn held still for a few moments as Nyle pounded his cock hard into her greedy channel, each stroke deep and angled to create a whirlwind of sensual delight. She peaked, let out more inarticulate sounds as waves of pleasure blossomed and bloomed, eventually calmed and receded. She was left gasping, her cunt clenching helplessly around the solid erection that seemed to nearly split her in two. At almost the same moment that her own climax punched through her, Nyle rammed his cock deep and held still. He swore, something in his own Celtic tongue, and the heat of his seed filled her.
Stunned and sated, Kristin clung on to Bowdyn’s waist, her fingers curling into his solid flesh. He started to move again, his thrusting more demanding now. She gazed up at him, her lips stretching around his cock, the hairs that surrounded it tickling her nose.
“Suck,” he growled, “hard.”
Obedient, she did as he told her. His cock lurched within her mouth, then without warning her throat was full of hot, viscous liquid. Acting on pure instinct, she swallowed. Her throat cleared, was filled again. She cleared it. Again, the final ribbons of Bowdyn’s seed erupted into her mouth and she swallowed hard. Then, it was over. He released his grip on her hair, eased her head back, and she could breathe.