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Chapter One


 

Space Vikings!

Those two startling words kept running through Melody’s mind, as she stared at her husband from across the rough wooden dining table.

That phrase had seemed almost amusing back on Earth, when the Space Vikings had come there as visitors and allies, trying to fit into Earthly society. Now that title was very serious indeed.

The Space Vikings were back on their frozen planet of Norska, where the people still warmed their houses with firepits, filling the rooms with a smoky scent. They had learned all about electricity on Earth, of course, but had no desire to bring it back to their own home world. That showed how primitive they still were.

“Primitive” was one word for them, and “savage” was another. She realized that all too clearly, as she heard the wind and the wolves both howling together outside. The World Commission had sent its own most savage people here centuries ago, armed with volumes of Viking lore and language to guide them. Now their crown prince had brought her back to Norska with them as his bride.

It had seemed like a dream come true at the time. Now it was starting to seem too much like a nightmare.

Back home, he had won her heart with his gentle, thoughtful ways, his delightful Swedish accent and, of course, his muscular blond good looks. He had fallen in love with her while she was fighting for both women’s and animals’ rights, showing what a sweet and sensitive man he really was.

But all that seemed to be changing, now that he was back on his own planet. Here, men practically lived on the meat and hides of the wild beasts they killed. What’s worse, they had perfect right to beat their wives for any misbehavior.

She had even heard her royal mother-in-law, Queen Freydis, crying out in pain, when her husband, the Warlord, was beating her because she had defied him. In those moments, she wondered if the Queen had ever regretted becoming The Warlord’s Bride.

Ulrich the Warlord had made Queen Freydis his bride in the old Viking way, by carrying her off by force. That, too, had seemed like a thrilling romance, but there was nothing romantic now about the sound of Freydis’ screams while her husband beat her soundly.

Well, he did not really beat her, Melody admitted. The Norskan husbands used spanking to control and punish their wives…and sometimes to give them pleasure, too. Still, those spankings were inflicted with paddles, straps and tree branches, in addition to the men’s hard hands.

She already knew from her own experience how painful those implements could be. Her own Prince Siegfried might seem like an Earthman at times, but he could also revert to his Viking ways, when he thought she had earned a session spread over his knee or bent across the table.

Of all the creatures here on Norska, only her little white Maltese dog had seemed to challenge his right to do it. She had interrupted her mistress’ first punishment by growling viciously, jumping up and sinking her teeth into her master’s arm.

Melody had been greatly relieved when he settled for putting Flower out of the room, rather than hurling her against the stone wall. But her relief had not lasted long, once the strap started striking her bottom. 

Even the Gustavsons, father and son, had adopted the Norskan ways. They seemed to forget that they had come from Earth, where a man could spank his wife only with her consent. It did not matter at all to them that Steve Gustavson’s wife was the royal princess of Norska, while his father’s wife, Esther Wainwright, was still a famous broadcast news reporter back on Earth.

Melody found herself smiling ruefully, when she remembered all the changes she had planned to make. She had dreamed of altering the laws, so that Norskan wives could have the same rights that women enjoyed on Earth. More than that, she had even dreamed of convincing her new neighbors to adopt her own vegetarian ways.

Now it was all she could do to convince her husband to let her wear a quilted robe, rather than a fur gown. And she had learned not to even question him when he thought she had earned another session with his strap, because any objection would bring her ten more blows across her burning backside.

It was remarkable enough that she had managed to win over the gentle Queen to her own vegetarian diet, but there seemed little hope of doing more than that. To be fair, there was so little vegetation on this frozen planet, the inhabitants were almost forced to live on bear and salmon, which made them more savage still. The Queen herself had been living largely on fish before she met the true vegetarians on Earth, and Melody admired her greatly for adopting their ways.

Melody respected Queen Freydis even more, when Siegfried told her that his mother had always insisted on wearing the shabby pelts of the wolves and bears who had died of old age, rather than the full and glossy furs of the animals whom the warriors had slain. Now, of course, the Queen wore the fake furs from Earth, so that she could dazzle her followers in mink, fox, leopard, zebra or any other pelt she choose, with no sense of guilt at all.

But those were no fake wolves whom Melody heard howling outside. She could never justify the way the Norskans treated those poor beasts, and now she sighed at the thought of their plight.

“What is the matter?” Siegfried asked her, his blue eyes filled with concern. “You seem sad tonight.”

“I can’t help feeling that way,” she answered, with a sigh. “Those poor hungry wolves…I hear them howling all night, even through the palace stone walls.”

“That always happens in wintertime,” he reminded her. “I feel sorry for them too, but if we throw them things to eat, they will come even closer, until they are eating us…or we are forced to kill them all.”

“Still, I wish there were something we could do…”

He reached out his strong, broad hand, to cover her own slim fingers. “So do I,” he answered softly. “But we must live in this world as it is. You knew that when you married me.”

“I did indeed. But I wish there were some way to make it a better world, for all the creatures here.”

To her dismay, he pulled his hand away. “Yes, and you have told our court ladies about your views,” he said.

“Now many are starting to agree. You told that Esther Wainwright too, and she broadcast your message back to Earth, making us seem like savages.”

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to read his expression from the flickering light in the firepit, while fearing that at any moment he would rise from the table, pull her to her feet and bend her over the wooden boards for a paddling. Instead, he turned his attention back to his salmon dinner, leaving her caught in a conflict between relief and disappointment.

But savages is what you are, she silently replied. So why shouldn’t Esther Wainwright report the truth to our fellow Earthlings?

***

At this moment, Esther Wainwright Gustavson could think of a very good reason why she should have kept silent. Her husband’s hard, broad hand was smashing down onto her slim backside, harder and faster each time, and always landing on the same sore spot, making it burn even more brightly.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her bottom was turning a deeper crimson with each blow. As always, he was holding her skirt above her waist, while her pants were around her ankles, giving him a clear view of his handiwork.

She dared not even ask when the punishment would end, since she knew from painful experience that that would earn her another ten blows.

When she turned her head, her eyes went wide as they saw that he was reaching for the wide leather belt that waited on the bedside table. She realized all too clearly that the session had just begun.

Her howls grew even louder at the sight, and she struggled even more frantically against his restraining left hand.

“OW! OW! OW!” she cried, her voice mingling with the thud of the strap as it kept striking her bottom in a swift, merciless rhythm. It was the sound she had heard only too often in this barbaric place…the sound of a thorough spanking being administered, with any weapons that the husband wished to use. She and Robert had made that noise often enough before, and she knew that the others were listening to it now.

“OWW!” she shrieked, as the twentieth blow struck. “Haven’t you done enough for one night? Won’t you please stop now?”

“You know I have only started,” Robert reminded her, in a tone that was almost as cold as his blue eyes. To prove his words, he brought the strap down even more forcefully, and his wife responded with the loudest shriek of all.

“Now,” he said, as he raised the weapon above his head once more. “Do you know why I am punishing you?”

“Yes,” she cried. “It is for doing that interview with Princess Melody and sending it back to Earth.”

Desperately, she added, “But you knew I was a newswoman when you married me, Princess Melody is always news, and her desire to save the wolves is…OWWWW!” He had answered her argument with an even harder blow.

“And YOU know that I have forbidden you to broadcast any stories to Earth that will make the Norskans look bad,” he answered, as he brought the strap down again. “I am here as the World Commissioner, to cement our good relations with the Norskans, and I brought you here to help me. You will not do that by turning the Earth people against them.”

“But I didn’t make them look bad!” she wailed. “On the contrary, I showed that they allow opposing views. A few Norskans even have their own viewing screens now, run by batteries, and no one is trying to shut them down. That proves they have freedom of speech, and that is a good thing, isn’t it? Well, ISN’T it?”

When he refused to answer, she pleaded even more desperately, “Are you ever going to stop spanking me?”

“I will do that when you promise to stop trying to make trouble for the people here,” he sternly replied.

“I am just trying to explain why I have to…OWWWW!!!”

“And as long as you can keep trying to do that, I know I am not doing my job.”

“I am just trying to make you stop spanking me!” she howled, barely able to speak now through her tears. “Please, please, STOP! OW OW OW OW! Please please PLEASE!”

“That’s better,” he told her, as the strap paused above his head. “So I’ll just give you ten more, to make sure you don’t forget the lesson you learned tonight!”

“How can I forget?” she cried. “My bottom is on fire, and I won’t be able to sit down for days.”

“You won’t be able to lie on your back, either,” he told her cheerfully. “That means you will have to lie on top of me when we make love…which we will do, as soon as I have finished this job.”

“What makes you think I will want to do that,” she sniffled.

“I believe it because I know you,” he answered, and she could imagine the smile on his hard, thin lips. “Whenever I burn your backside, I am also lighting a fire somewhere else.”

It was true, she realized. From her research into her family’s history, she had learned that those Wainwright Women had always felt that way, going all the way back to Bonnie Prince Charlie’s revolt.

Now as Esther squirmed vainly to escape her husband’s hard, merciless blows, one part of her was writhing just as helplessly, with her growing desire.

When the strapping finally stopped, the desire was even more powerful than the pain that had aroused it. With eager eyes, she watched him drop the belt back on the bedside table. He helped her to stand, then he lay down on his back on the bed.

She quickly pulled her skirt off, before she sat on top of him, with her legs straddling his thighs. With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his smooth, hard chest. At the same time, his own fingers were fumbling to unbutton his trousers and toss them onto the floor.

Her eyes widened as they always did, when she saw how long, thick and hard his penisen had become. The sight made her even more aware of the rising warmth and moisture within her own slida, making it more than ready to receive him.

As he pushed himself deep into her, she felt herself opening and closing to receive him, harder and faster each time, pulling him deeper and deeper inside, as he filled her up more and more completely. Soon she was crying out again…not in pain this time, but in the ultimate burst of pleasure.

When they were finished, she lay on her side with one slim arm across his chest, as they gasped for breath, beyond words. When they were finally able to speak again, he said, as sternly as he could manage, “But you must not forget the punishment I gave you or what it was for.”

“How could I?” she asked, with a rueful smile. “My bottom is still blazing, and I can’t even imagine ever sitting down again.” Reaching back, she stroked her backside gently at the thought.

“So, will you promise not to say anything that might offend the Norskans?”

Lifting her head, she replied carefully, “How can I possibly tell what will offend them, as proud and quick-tempered as they are, and…OW OW OW!”

Before she could finish her sentence, he had sat up in bed again and pulled her right back over his lap. Now the belt was smashing down once more, across her bruised and burning flesh. She could only sob and struggle helplessly, as the wide leather strap kept falling, harder and faster than ever.

“I see that punishing you for your faults is not enough,” he told her in his coldest tone, ignoring her struggles and sobs. “You need what my son gives his own wife Brunhilda, even if she is the Warlord’s Daughter…a maintenance spanking every week or so, just to remind you what will happen if you do anything wrong. Although knowing you, you probably need your maintenance every day.”

“Is that what the Norskan men taught him?” she demanded angrily, through her tears.

“Why, no,” he replied, with grim pleasure. “He learned it on Earth from a group called Domestic Discipline. It seems that some of the Earthmen had some good ideas for the Norskans...like those maintenance spankings. They are probably just what you need.”

Hearing her gasp, he added, “Of course, I have not decided on them…yet. And if you manage to behave yourself, I never will.”

But that, as they both realized, was a very big “if” indeed.

***

“You know this is what you need,” Steven Gustavson told his royal bride, as his hard hand fell across her squirming bare backside for the 25th time that night.

“But it is not right!” Brunhilda wailed, as she struggled hopelessly against the strong left arm that held her pinned over his knee. “I haven’t done anything to earn it…this week, at least. You are doing it only because my father wants me to be the first warlady…you would not treat any ordinary woman this way. It is almost enough to make me wish I were not The Warlord’s Daughter.”

“In the first place, many women get maintenance spankings on Earth…and many more could use them,” he reminded her calmly. “In the second, you must be better than most women…less likely to lose your temper and do something foolish. When you are about to do so, you will remember my punishments long enough to stop yourself.”

“But even Wotan feels sorry for me! Can’t you hear my poor wolf howling outside?”

“I feel sorry for you too,” her husband answered softly, as his hand briefly paused. “But I still must do my duty, by helping you become the warlady that your people will need.”

To his surprise, she turned her head towards him angrily, tossing her blond braids over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me!” she shouted.

“Very well, then,” he assured her. “I won’t feel sorry for you at all…when I wash your mouth out with soap, because you shouted at me. You know you must not shout at anyone but your enemies in battle.”

“I know,” she admitted meekly, surprising him with her surrender. As he helped her stand, she sighed so unhappily that he wondered if he could bring himself to inflict this added punishment.

His doubts vanished when he saw her forcing her own mouth open, despite her tears. She saw the need for this correction as much as he did, and he could not disappoint her.

As he stood at the basin lathering the soap between his fingers, she waited with her eyes lowered. “I will get this over as quickly as I can,” he promised.

With a shaky laugh, she answered, “However long it takes you, it will seem very long to me.”

In fact, it seemed an eternity, after he pressed his hand into her mouth and spread the hateful, bitter bubbles through it.

“Now you must wait for five minutes before you rinse out your mouth,” he ordered her. That brief time seemed even more endless, for both of them, as he fought to keep himself from ending the punishment at once.

When it was over and she stood with her eyes still lowered before him, she seemed so meek and helpless that he could not resist taking her into his arms.

“You know I am doing this only for your sake…and your people’s,” he reminded her, stroking her hair as she gave way to sobbing. “I know you would do nothing to shame your royal mother.”

“Never!” she exclaimed, as she pulled her head away. “I mean,” she added hastily, in a much lower voice, “I mean, I would never do anything to embarrass her. I know that my maintenance spankings will stop me from doing it, so I must accept them.”

“I only wish I could accept the need for them myself so easily,” he admitted.

“Well then,” she told him, smiling as she gazed up into his eyes. “You must find a way to comfort me.”

“I think I have done that already,” he said, with an answering laugh, as he pressed her hand against his penisen, to show her how hard and long it had becoming.

Lifting her into his arms, he placed her on the bed. Ignoring the pain in her backside, she was soon moaning with pleasure as he thrust his tongue into her slida. When this had almost driven her to the heights of ecstasy, he pressed his penisen there in its place, and soon they were climbing those heights of joy together.

***

For the Queen, though, those heights of pleasure were still far away. Right now, she was lying bent over the bedside table, holding her fake leopard skin robe around her waist, as her Warlord brought the wooden paddle down across her naked bottom, with a thundering smack.

As he did, Ulrich could not help admiring how firm and tight that bottom still was, as it turned from pearly white to ruby red beneath his strong arm. He still had a very strong arm too, he realized proudly. It was powerful enough to make her weep and cry for mercy…even though, as he realized all too well, it would never be strong enough to make her admit she was wrong.

She certainly was not about to do so now.

“I know that you have always felt sorry for the wolves in winter,” he told her, as the hand that clutched the paddle briefly paused.  “Your fine feelings even made you stop eating meat from any animals, even though the wolves themselves would devour those other beasts in a moment.

“But now our Earth-born Princess Melody is trying her best to make all the women pity the wolves, and she seems to have done well with you. Odin only knows what will come of it, if they go out trying to feed those wild beasts. The ladies will probably be eaten themselves.”

“But shouldn’t we try to think of some way to help those poor creatures?” she pleaded, through her tears. “OW!” He had answered with a blow that would have knocked her onto the floor, if the table had not been beneath her.

“Feeding the wolves would be only the first step, even if it could be done,” he angrily explained. “Then the women would want to do even more foolish things, without our consent.

“I know what happened while our warriors were on Earth, fighting the giant metal spiders. Our Norskan women starting thinking that they could run things themselves.” More quietly, he admitted, “To be fair, they often had to do it.”

His voice grew more powerful again, as he added, “But now the Norskan men are back, and some women still want to stay in control. Princess Melody is urging them on, by trying to lead them in feeding the wolves, but I know it will not stop there. She has told some of them that their husbands should not be able to punish them without their full consent. And some of the women repeated her words to their men.”

With a harsh laugh, he went on, “Of course, those women found it hard to sit down for many days afterwards.”

At the very thought of those rebellious females, he brought the paddle down again with all his force, against her injured backside. He was pleased at the sight of her kicking up her little feet in vain.

“So,” he said, as he placed the paddle on the table beside her. “Will you stay away from these women who want to save the wolves, and who prove it by wearing those fake furs, no matter what their husbands say?”

“I cannot stay away from anyone who asks for my help,” she reminded him, through her tears. “That is our law. I must at least listen to their pleas to help those poor animals outside.”

In his exasperation, he slammed the paddle against her backside with all his strength again, making her jump and cry out, even more violently than before.

“But you will not grant their requests!” he demanded.

“How can I agree to hear them if I know in advance that I will not agree to their demands?”

“Very well then,” he finally muttered, dropping the paddle to the floor. “But at least you will not go out of your way to meet with them.”

“Except for my son’s bride. I can hardly avoid her, can I, when she lives in this palace?”

“Except for her,” he grudgingly agreed. “But at least try to keep your conversation to other topics, like how she enjoys the weather or her dinner.”

Thinking about that, he held up one hand. “I know, I know! That will bring on a lecture from her about not eating animal flesh. So you must at least try to change the subject, if you can.”

“Yes, my husband,” she answered meekly, still staring at the wooden floor. “May I stand now?”

“I suppose you might as well,” he answered, with a sigh. “As always, I have gained your submission…but without your obedience. So let us come to bed.” 

Smiling slyly, he added, “There, we can eat each other.” She was startled for a moment, until he explained, “I mean, of course, that I will lick your slida and then you will suck on my penisen.”

“Yes, my husband!” she answered eagerly. “In that, I will be glad to obey you.”

***

“You know we must obey our husbands,” Brunhilda told her sister-in-law uneasily. “Mine keeps reminding me that I must not shame our royal family. I know that he also wants to remind me not to disgrace him, as a World Commission military envoy, or his father, who is a World Commissioner. Sometimes he reminds me so thoroughly, I can hardly sit down for days.” She started rubbing her backside at the very memory.

“I would not dream of shaming Her Majesty,” Melody insisted. “But what dishonor can there be in doing a good deed? Every night, we hear the wolves howling, closer and closer to our royal palace. That’s why I keep telling you we must find some way to feed them.”

“But that would be very dangerous!” the Princess cried. “What if the wolves devoured one of us?” And even worse, she wondered, what if our husbands found out what we had done? Then there is nothing in the Galaxy that would stop them from beating us until we ourselves were the ones who howled for mercy, more loudly than all the wolves on Norska.

 “But will the Queen not be shamed, to see her daughter and her daughter-in-law leading those rebel campaigns?” Brunhilda asked.

“Of course, the Queen will not know about our project…until it is too late,” replied Esther. “And hopefully, our men will not know, either.”

But that, she realized with a sigh, was a vain hope indeed. And when Steve did find out what she had done, she would have no hope of escaping the hardest and longest spanking of her life.

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