This story is part of a collaboration with Achast and several other authors, the first chronological post can be found here.

Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy F/f, M/f, lesdom, non-consensual, bondage, slavery, kidnapping, historical, Viking Age. 

Northern France, 907 C.E.

Lilje’s foe lunged, overreaching as she dodged and then caught the pitchfork with the crook of her axe. It was child’s play to rip it away from him. He was a farmhand at best. Young, muscular, but hardly a threat to a woman as experienced in going a-viking as Lilje was. The man lost his balance and tumbled forward, grunting when Lilje took a instant to give him a solid kick to the side, laughing as she did.

He had been embarrassed to fight a woman at first. Lilje’s gender was obvious, as unlike all the band’s men she had no beard to match her long blonde hair. That embarrassment turned into rage that fueled his resolve. But now that meagre resolve gave way to fear. He ran away. Lilje watched him leave in what he must have thought was the opposite direction of her raiding band. In reality he was heading straight for a place Lilje knew some of her comrades had gone to search out loot.

The raid was going well.

Smoke from the few fires that had been set was huffing its way into the sky. Screams could be heard every now and again. Less than there had been at the start. Soon enough she heard a new one, a deep voice coming from the direction her farmhand foe had run off to.

Lilje Thorvilsdottir watched half the band carrying loot out of the ruined stone monastery that was their primary target. She saw Harald and Helga hoisting bags so heavily filled with gold coins that pieces were slipping out and they didn’t even stop to grab them (though others were picking them up as they moved). Bjorn had helped himself to what looked like jewel encrusted books. All manner of wealth was being taken back to the ships.

The raider woman felt a stab of annoyance. Only half the band was allowed to take the monastery, the target with real wealth. The rest of them had to make do with the ramshackle village attached to it. There was far less to loot here. Lilje had been looking for what seemed like the entire day (though in truth it had been little more than half of a single hour) and found barely a few coins to scrap together. The wealth of the village was found elsewhere. The tools inside the local smithy. Horses and livestock.

Slaves.

The young man Lilje had “fought” would likely end up a thrall. A muscled, obviously experienced worker like him? He would be captured or dead by the end of the day.

Loud cries drew Lilje’s attention off to the side, just as another of her comrades dragged a new thrall past her. This one was a woman, bound at the wrists by a fine length of rope. She had not been gagged but was screaming what must be obscenities in her Frankish language at her new master, who paid her no mind as he pulled her along like a misbehaving dog.

Two more raiders followed soon after. A man whose name Lilje never bothered to learn and Ylva, the only woman in the band taller than Lilje herself. On each of their shoulders was another woman. The man’s captive was fair-haired while Ylva’s captive had brown hair. They were tied much more securely than the last one, with their ankles bound as well as their wrists. Thick cloths were drawn heavily between their teeth and tied tightly, muffling the incomprehensible drivel she was trying to spout.

“Hey there flower!” Called Ylva when she saw Lilje looking. Lilje scowled. Just because she shared a name with the lily flower didn’t mean she had to like it when Ylva had stripped even that specific plant from her nickname. The taller woman thought she was being cute, that her teasing was simply another of her endless flirtations. “There’s not much left to find! Any regular loot is gone and all the choicest pieces are already in our hands!”

She laughed and gave her brown-haired captive a good, hard spank, eliciting an angry yelp.

“I’ll find my own loot!” Lilje called back with a scowl. She’d been part of the rear guard today, had been made to spend most of the raid watching everyone’s backs before she had been allowed to rush in herself. “Don’t you worry, Jotnar bitch!”

Ylva and her companion just laughed and went on their way, satisfied by the (mostly) good natured ribbing.

Lilje met the eyes of both slaves as they passed. Fair-hair’s gaze was wide and wet. She used her pathetic gaze to silently, hopelessly beg for help. Any help. Brown-hair was all fury, her own eyes burning with humiliation. Despite herself, Lilje felt pity for the both of the, and respect for the brown-haired one.

She then crushed those feelings, scowling at herself as she did. Every time she looked at a new prize caught in a raid, whether they were a new thrall or a prisoner to be ransomed, Lilje couldn’t keep herself from feeling a strange sense of kinship.

It was ridiculous. Lilje was no mewling maid to be taken and enslaved. She was a raider! Taller than many men and a veteran of three years of battle. She had earned her place in a band that went a-viking with sweat and blood won with her own strength and skill. Lilje took slaves herself! Men and women both! Why should she feel kinship to fools who let themselves be seen and taken?

But Lilje felt herself grow piteous every time she saw some new captive with bound limbs and a gagged mouth. She could so clearly imagine being restrained as they were. The thought of those ropes or even shackles binding her own limbs, the taste of the gags that kept them quiet, or even a collar around her throat… Lilje could picture every sensation with such vividness it almost seemed like she was remembering rather than imagining.

This was the reason Lilje was so reluctant to take slaves of her own, why she had let that young man get away, no matter how profitable they might be at market. She hated these damn feelings! No one else in the band was so cursed!

But with all the best loot already taken it was obvious Lilje would have to take a slave if she wanted to come away from this voyage with the profits she wanted.

And it was at that fortuitous moment that Lilje turned around and spotted something. A runaway in a bright, colorful dress, dashing behind a tiny little house on her way to the forest. She didn’t see that someone was looking at her.

Lilje had found her prey.

Taking a second to look around and ensure no one else had spotted her, Lilje gave a grim, guilty smile and gave chase. She had a length of rope attached to her belt. There was no one to steal her loot out from under her. This was a perfect opportunity, and Lilje took it by entering the forest.

Her target quickly realized she was being followed. She turned and gave a yelp before picking up speed. As Lilje thought, her clothing was too nice to belong to peasant stock. That was good. A pampered girl could sell better than a common farmer’s daughter if she found the right buyer. Or maybe she would even be able to ransom the bitch. She felt less pity when ransoming women instead of enslaving them.

A nagging voice in Lilje's head questioned what someone wealthy been doing in such a poor looking village? That was odd, wasn’t it? Lilje ignored it. This was her best shot to come away from the raid with a profit, she couldn’t let her overactive mind distract her from her prey.

The chase didn’t take too long. The running woman’s dress kept her from getting too much speed even when it wasn’t getting trapped in torn in branches and bushes. The only reason it wasn’t over in seconds was because Lilje’s mail and weapons were slowing her down.

Nevertheless, Lilje quickly caught up to the smaller woman, stopping her run cold when she grabbed her by the shoulder and sent her tumbling to the ground. The woman rolled a bit on the forest floor before coming to a stop. She looked up with fearful eyes, giving Lilje her first good look at her loot.

The runaway was beautiful, as one might expect wearing a gown like that, with pitch-dark hair. She had a cute, slightly upturned nose and soft features. It quickly became obvious that she was older than Lilje had expected. Must have seen at least twenty years. Whoever had given her that nice dress might be her husband instead of her father. It was a lovely garment. A long, fine thing that hugged her body in all the right places. If Lilje could keep her in that long enough for the auction block it might drive up her price.

“Hello there,” Lilje smiled down at her loot and leaned down. “I know you can’t understand me, but I just know you’re going to get me plenty of gold.”

Raven-hair struggled and fought as Lilje straddled her between the legs to hold her still and brought out the rope. She squirmed as much as possible, even slamming her dainty fists on Lilje’s mail-coated chest while she shrieked some more with red-faced fury. At least until Lilje gave her a few hard smacks on her partially exposed backside. That got her to hold a little more still.

Lilje took a few minutes to get a good feel of her loot’s. Raven-hair had a good pair of tits. Large and firm. She was pleasingly curvy and not stick-thin. Her face was pretty too. Lilje found her smile growing. If she didn’t get to ransom her squirming captive, she would still get a good price for her.

Once she was finished inspecting the woman, Lilje got to work. It took some doing, but she eventually managed to get a good chunk of rope wrapped around the woman’s wrists and tie them nice and tight. The tall woman knew her way around a knot. It was one of those things she always seemed to have a natural talent for.

“There we go,” Lilje muttered to herself. “Now let’s get you up and headed over to your new life, eh pretty?”

Hauling the redhead to her feet, Lilje was too focused on making sure the rope held to see the look on her face at first. When she did take a look at her captive’s face, she saw something unexpected.

A smile

Raven-hair’s smile was venomous. A malicious thing promising harsh revenge for the treatment she’d been subjected to thus far. Lilje blinked, confused at the sight, but didn’t have enough time to turn before she felt a knife at her throat.

“Someone,” said a man’s voice in Norse, “chose the wrong loot.”

XIXIX

Hours later, Lilje had learned much.

It seemed these northern Frankish lands belonged to Rollo, a man who had once been a Viking himself. He and his men were nobles now, having extorted a permanent home from the Frankish king. Many lords and warriors around here spoke Norse and knew a raid when they saw one. And three of these men had been looking for Lilje’s prey.

Lilje had also learned much about her intended target, Raven-hair. It seemed her name was Adelaide. She was a noblewoman originally from the south who had come north to wed one of the new Northman Frankish lords. Apparently, she had some “friends,” among the peasants in the village who she liked to visit from time to time. She had snuck away from her bodyguards in a bid for privacy when Lilje’s band struck.

The guards laughed when they used the word friends, and one of them suggested “toys” was a better word for it. Lilje didn’t like the sound of any of it. Nor did she like the way Adelaide kept looking at her with a hungry, appraising eye.

And of course, Lilje had learned what it was to be a captive. Her captors had wasted no time in turning her own ropes upon her once their lady was freed from them. Lilje’s hands were tied tight before her, and her mouth was harshly gagged with a rag in her mouth and another wrapped tightly between her teeth. She had growled and groaned at them, only to be laughed at.

Then she had been shoved and dragged away from the village and her comrades. No one from the band came to rescue Lilje. And after so much time had passed, she doubted anyone would. Maybe they would look for her, pick up a trail. But it was doubtful. They were more likely to write her off and leave her for dead, the bastards.

And then, once Adelaide was satisfied there was no danger of a pack of Vikings appearing behind them, she ordered Lilje to strip.

Lilje obeyed. She had no choice. There was no chance of fighting back when she had been disarmed and they held all the weapons. These were seasoned warriors, not untrained farmhands. So she stripped. Her face was flushed red with rage, but she stripped. And when she stood naked in a clearing, leered at by three men and a woman, they were upon her with the ropes once again.

This time the bonds were much more thorough. Lilje’s arms were tied behind her back instead of her front, tighter than before. Another length of rope lashed her arms to her chest, and the men took time to make sure those ropes went above and underneath her breasts to make them pop out some more. Finally, Lilje’s knees were bound together, hobbling her legs. She would be able to walk short steps. It seemed they had no intention of carrying her.

All the while Adelaide kept watch as her would-be kidnapper was tied up in front of her, idly playing with her dark hair.

The men stepped away, leaving the bound, captured raider woman standing on her own, struggling to keep her balance with her legs tied together as she was.

That was when Adelaide stepped up, her eyes burning with lusty desire. The woman was so much shorter than Lilje was. The very top of her head barely made it up to the raider’s chin! Nevertheless, Lilje found herself taking a step back as the lady came up to her. Something in that look made Lilje suspect it would soon be her who would soon be gracing someone’s bed.

Adelaide’s hands came up on the taller woman’s ample bosom, kneading and squeezing them with gusto. Lilje growled, and Adelaide laughed at her, totally unafraid. She stopped long enough to give the nipples a hard pinch, and it was Lilje’s turn to squeal.

There was no way to know how long they remained in that clearing, Adelaide’s hands wandering over her captive Viking’s body. Down from the breasts to her stomach, her hips, then to explore her womanhood before taking a long grope of her ass. Lilje felt herself pinched and slapped all over before the raven-haired woman took a step back, satisfied.

Adelaide spoke, never taking her eyes of Lilje as the incomprehensible Frankish words spilled out from her smiling face.

One of the men was there, leaning into Lilje’s ear. “The lady says that since your friends took her favorite peasant pet away from her, she’ll be keeping you as payment.”

“Mmmph!?”

A chuckle. “That’s right. Her husband never let her keep her toys in their home with her, since they were all his peasants and he wanted them working. But you’re no peasant, aren’t you lass? You have no work to do, save for keeping your new lady happy.”

Lilje started to shake her head, started to curse at the woman before her and men surrounding her. It was no use, of course. She was shoved along as before, stepping slower with her bound up legs. No longer a raider, but a simple slave to be used as her owner wished.