Ragnar The Magnificent

Thanksgiving events with non-erotica writing friends always spark lively discussions. Sometimes, I think they create a plan for when we are together. One of my friends asked me to write a specific fantasy. I sat between her and her partner as she created otherworldly elements, for me to include. I hope I have done Ragnar the Magnificent and Cinnamon a solid turn!

Enjoy your tale crafted just for you, my friends. You know who you are!

“What’s with the shopping bag, Red?” Alexander peeked inside and pulled out a Viking helmet.

“Props for our sex fantasy.”

“Our sex fantasy?” I hated it when he grumbled.

“I don’t like your tone. You said you would play along.”

“Remind me what your fantasy was.”

I stepped forward and batted my eyelashes. “I’m a Hungarian girl named Ildiko, but because of my hair color everyone calls me Cinnamon.”

Alexander grinned as he toyed with a lock of my hair and twisted it around his finger. “Go on.”

“I’m the child of a noble abducted by the Hans, and you saw me on the beach collecting mussels.”

“What were you wearing, Red?”

I glared at him. “Call me Cinnamon. And I wore tattered clothes that made my sexy body visible to you.”

“Where was I?”

“You were watching from your Viking vessel and decided you had to have me, so you staged a rescue.”

“Red—Cinnamon, who am I?”

“Your people call your Ragnar.” I winked at him. “The Magnificent.”

If I appealed to his ego, it might get me what I wanted. Hot sex with me secured to the middle of the bed at his mercy.

“And where exactly does this scene begin?” He yanked my hair waking a trifecta of primal sensation between my nipples and clit. He towered over me, and I loved it.

“You know, after the rescue. Um, I thought I’d leave that part up to you.”

“Okay then.”

Alexander grabbed me and hauled my body against his. Surprise and intrigue settled on me. He crushed his lips to mine and then his hands threaded into my blouse. When he ripped it off me, we broke apart. I tasted the sweetness of desire. The vein in his neck bulged and my heart skyrocketed.

“My clothes.”

“Ragnar wants a naked Cinnamon. Turn around.”

With my back to him, Ragnar bound my hands with my torn shirt. “Stand still.”

He drew his finger down my back, leaving goosebumps in the wake. When he reached the waistband of my skirt, I shivered and took a deep breath before he ripped it off, too. Alexander was getting into this role. “Now stay put.”

The shopping bag rustled as I fought to keep my place. The swish of clothes and the clunking of shoes hit the floor.

“To my chamber, Cinnamon. Walk in front of me.”

“Yes, Ragnar.”

“Those marks across your back and buttocks, your captors did that?”

“They did.”

“Savages. Women are designed for pleasure, and we Vikings know if we give women what they want, we reap the reward.”

Ooh, I had a smart man working here. Would Alexander, my Ragnar, give me what I wanted?

As we walked through our bedroom door, I stopped.

What the hell?

There was a wooden X platform against one wall. It had leather ties on the eyebolts spaced out evenly up and down the form.

A hot body and hard cock nestled in behind me. Teeth grazed my ear. “I listen to what you say, Red. You’re not the only one who gets to fantasize.” A wave of arousal shot through me from head to toe.

“Cinnamon, walk toward the platform. Eyes forward.”

My feet moved me like I was walking through molasses. I had expected Alexander would tie me to our bed but this? What would this involve? I stopped in front of the structure.

“Turn.”

I twirled quickly and gasped.

Ragnar.

Viking helmet. Leather strap across his bare chest with a matching leather loincloth lifted by his erection. My dream.

“Give me your hands.” The heat from his touch nearly seared me as he released me from my binding. “Now lift them over your head.”

With tenderness but command, one by one he attached them to the structure.

“Now your feet.”

He squatted to affix my ankles, and as he sunk toward the floor, the horn of his helmet dragged across my breast. My nipple hardened sending ripples of desire throughout my entire body. After he secured my feet, his hands snaked up my legs. His unruly hair tickled my skin. I rose on my toes as he held my hips steady and buried his nose in my pubic hair. When he inhaled, he moved the tip of his nose across my clit teasing me. My chest expanded and my stomach quivered. Knowing what would make me wiggle, Ragnar pressured my clit with slow circles.

“You are responsive, Cinnamon.”

“Yes.”

He rose and cupped both breasts with his big hands, pushing them together and observing my response. When sandpaper thumb pads brushed across my nipples, a tiny squeal erupted from me before my head dropped back and my mouth flew open. I hoped he would kiss me again, but he didn’t. Instead, he stepped back. Again, my fantasy view.

Ragnar turned his back toward me and flexed his glutes. He had the tightest ass I had ever seen. I reveled in those muscles as he undressed. With the helmet and strap off, he removed his loincloth.

When he faced me, his cock was as hard as I had ever seen it.

“This is all your doing woman. With your tempting ways, my manhood leaped into action. I want to show you what that feels like.”

“Yes, your cock.”

“No, woman, the temptation.” He took his cock in hand and stroked it. “Watch.”

My mouth had lost all moisture, and my entire body hummed.

“You want it, don’t you, Cinnamon?”

My parched mouth couldn’t form words, so I nodded in quick successions.

With his continued strokes, he hunched over grunting with desire and power. As his skin flushed, the veins in his cock surfaced. I was so aroused.

“Ragnar, I want to touch you. Taste you and ride that cock.”

My wetness overflowed. I wanted to press my knees together to push back my desire, but I was splayed open. I squeezed my eyes shut to gain control, but the aromatic scent of him and I permeated our room and enticed me. My body continued to expand with need as the raw sea salt on his skin infused the air with my hint of clove.

I craved a release.

I wanted detonation.

As if he read my mind, a hot, flat tongue waggled against my vulva as broad shoulders pushed against my thighs.

Ragnar the Magnificent.

Lashed to the X, I looked down at Ragnar on his knees under me, licking and sucking. He consumed me until tears leaked out of my eyes. He’d met me in my fantasy and added his own needs.

My heart soared as the pressure on my clit broke me in two. His fingers dug into my hips and he held me in place forcing me to feel everything he gave me. I bucked his face over and over. When my gyrations stilled, he wiped his wet mouth across my thigh and gazed up at me.

“Oh, you’re a selfish little wench, allowing yourself pleasure first. There is a punishment for that.”

My eyebrows lifted. “There is?”

“Yes.” His thick digits thrust inside my wetness, and after finding the spot that made me crazy, I shuddered. “But who shall receive it? Red or Cinnamon?”

Was this a trick question?

“Both, please.”

“You are a determined little one. More is your punishment.”

His teeth dug into my thigh and I gasped.

I belong to Ragnar.

But could I handle his unleashed more?

 

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I linked this story to both weekly prompts of “Scandalous” at Masturbation Monday and “Playful” at Wicked Wednesday. Please go check out each place for lots more sexy reading.