Bride of Grendel: A Viking Lore Erotic Tale (Viking Lore Erotic Tales Book 2) (4 page)

              Well, there were worse ways to go.

              It was better than getting eaten. Or maybe that came later.

              These thoughts barely had time to cross her mind — and she must have been giddy, because they did not particularly bother her, either — before Grendel was rubbing the head of his gigantic prick against her. She was incredibly wet, slippery wet. She wondered if there was an aphrodisiac in Grendel’s spit, because all she wanted was for him to penetrate her again. She was certain that it could not but destroy her, and yet she wanted to take that enormous thing into her — but how could it possibly fit?

              She lifted her knees, opened them wide to accommodate Grendel between them. It was a good thing that she was limber. He pressed, and she opened to him. The tip of his cock pushed past her lips and into her. She groaned at the feel of its massive girth, but she took it. He paused, moaning — hesitant, perhaps, to impale her completely? She wondered if he stopped fucking his brides once they were dead, or if he made a gory mess of them until he was satisfied. She hoped that he would go with her until he came, and that she would survive long enough to feel it.

              “More,” she whispered, “more!”

              He caught up her ankles and held them together in one hand, holding her legs against his chest. Then he pushed himself deeper into her. He went slowly, inch by inch. She felt herself widening, stretched, straining — it hurt, felt dangerously like her flesh might split, but also felt so good she could barely stand it, the pain and pleasure intertwined in a single intense sensation. He let go of her ankles, spread her legs again, her feet resting on his shoulders, pressing her knees toward her chest as he penetrated further. How deep was he? She looked at his monstrous cock between her legs. He was only halfway in, at best. He pulled out a few inches, and then pushed back in. He did it again, slowly, and then faster. She felt a gush of silky wetness as her body responded to the friction, as her cunt opened to his massiveness and took him in. She cried out with every thrust, as he began pumping harder and deeper.

              She felt like she was losing herself in the feel of Grendel within her. Like that first time with Unferth in the sea cave, when that strange, twining, pulsing presence had taken her so completely that it was as though she had become one with it, or like the strange dream she'd had just before Grendel's appearance, she felt herself opening and expanding beyond herself. It did not hurt now as he pushed deeper and spread her opening ever wider. She felt like she could take him completely, could take anything. She felt transformed. She thought she heard the whispering voice of the sea again, inside her ear, inside her head: "the lost one, the lost one is found," it said. "The lost one is the bride, the only one..." Yes, she thought, she had been lost, lost in a world where she had never truly belonged. And now she was found.

              Grendel had very nearly penetrated her completely, but a few precious inches remained. He pulled out and turned her over onto her hands and knees, then took her again, from behind. He pressed her shoulders toward the floor, so her face and chest rested against the fur, with her ass still tilted up to meet him. He plunged into her, deep, so deep that she let out a cry. She could feel his pelvis against her, his gigantic balls swinging against her thighs. He sheathed the full, tremendous length of his shaft in her, thrust once, twice, and then held himself inside, held tightly to her hips, while her body exploded into an orgasm that seemed to make the walls shake around them. As she reached the peak of her climax, he began thrusting, hard, extending her orgasm and raising it to inexpressible heights. He let out a roar, shooting his seed deep inside her and then covering her back and legs with cum as he pulled out, still ejaculating.

              After his last spasm, he sank back on his knees and lifted her into his lap. He was shaking — so was she, but she felt a rush of tenderness for her spent beast. He licked her cheek, pressed his nose against her face. With clawed fingers he caressed her hair. She fell asleep in his arms.

              Sigrun had never given much thought to who she was, or who her parents were. She knew only that she did not know, and that therefore she had never quite fit. And in most respects, she knew no more about her identity now than she ever had. But she felt different, somehow more certain of herself now than ever before. She did not know where the voice had come from, and yet she trusted what it said. She strongly suspected that no normal human woman could have survived her encounter with Grendel. She wondered if any of the previous Wealhtheows had even survived the water. It was an almost impossibly deep plunge, the more she thought about it — and she could well imagine that any woman who had taken the drugged cup would not have had her wits about her enough to even hold her breath. But Grendel had persisted. And she had survived.

              She had not merely survived. When Grendel took her, she felt a change, felt herself expanding into something she had not known that she was. She had felt a sort of quickening. She felt stronger now, more aware, more alive, more powerful in every way. And it continued. Every time she mated with the monster, she expanded further, grew in strength, became what she truly was — whatever that might be.

              In the early days of Hrothgar's hall and Grendel's terror, witnesses sometimes caught sight of the massive, misshapen-seeming figure stalking across the moors. Then things changed, right about the time the monster lost interest in taking Hrothgar's queens and returned to terrorizing the king and his men. Now the occasional viewer who dared to venture that far into the wilderness saw not just the monster, but sometimes a female figure by his side. Who was it, they wondered? His mother? Who else could it be?

              But they were wrong. It was his bride.

Keep following the adventures of Sigrun Frostdaughter

in the
Viking Lore Erotic Tales!

Sigrun’s romance with the monster Grendel has transformed her, but now that Grendel has taken to attacking Heorot and killing Horthgar’s warriors, he is undergoing a transformation, as well. Her beloved beast has become a danger to everyone, himself included, and Sigrun will find that her time with him is destined to be only the beginning of her path.

Find out what happens next in
Bride of Grendel 2: Night of the Bear Man
!

by Gwynn Jones