Vikings and virgins, read all about it!


My Viking story is live, errbody! 

As the title of this post suggests, there is a virgin theme to this story. But also, being my first time writing a Viking story, you could call me a virgin as well! 

This story has been a little bit different from my usual (billionaire, werewolves, etc.). The most obvious reason being that it’s what you would call a “historical fiction.” Words like tits, pussy, and ass…well, I’m sure weren’t common in their language back then. I’m a girl who loves to talk dirty, so trying to come up with creative-yet-realistic euphemisms for my favorite body parts worked out parts of my brain that I didn’t even know I had. But in the end, this ended up being one of my favorite stories I’ve written. It wasn’t so bad getting my good-girl cherry popped after all…especially by a literary Viking. 

So while I sign off to enjoy this holiday, I’ll leave you with an excerpt to this special story. You can click on the links below to see them live in action at your favorite online bookstore.

“They will do vile things to your body,” the women warned me. “They will put their privates in your mouth and their mouths on your privates!”

I tried to hold still as they dressed me and braided my hair, resisting the urge to smile. Their warnings sounded like a song.

“Iona!” There was a slap on my hand. Sigrid jerked her head up to fix her disdainful stare at my face. “Do you even appreciate the gravity of your role?”

“I do,” I lied. Well, I had, at least, until I realized it was much simpler to banish all traces of fear, to not even think about it, because thinking about it only made me feel worse.

“Then listen closely,” Sigrid said. “I’m trying to explain to you what will happen.

I kept silent as she told me. She didn’t realize, however, that I already knew what men and women did together. I’d seen Gwen and Calan in the woods many years ago, stuck to each other at their bellies, moving with the short, frantic jerks of a wounded bird. I’d never been able to forget the look on Gwen’s face, a mix of satisfaction and hunger.

I puzzled over how any girl could let a boy do that to her until Alister led me into the woods the following year. His hands had gone up my skirt and had done things that made me hot between my legs. Remembering that feeling was uncomfortable and sinfully delightful at the same time.

I bit my lip. Of all the things, Alister would’ve been the hardest to leave behind. If I’d known that the Vikings were coming, that I’d be chosen as the virgin tribute, I would’ve let Alister do more than just touch me down there with his hands.




Sigrid called for two men to row me out to the ship. Alister’s hand shot up.

No, I thought to myself.

The sun glanced off of his golden curls as he stepped forward, and I felt a violent ache in my chest. He barely looked at me as he sat inside the boat. The other volunteer motioned for my hand.

I threw one last glance at the hill where the other villagers stood in crooked lines. Little girls clutched at their mother’s dresses, wearing indifferent expressions. I’d been that way as a little girl, mildly bored as the older virgin girls were rowed away from us, year after year. I scanned their faces now. Who’s next? I wondered.

Alister cleared his throat. “Are you ready, Iona?”

A lump rose in my throat when I heard his careful, even tone. I nodded. “I’m ready.” I let the other man help me to my seat, and we pushed off into the sea.

Alister’s brow was furrowed over his eyes. His shoulders rippled under his clothes as he rowed. His hard, sloping muscles hypnotized me, conditioned from years of tilling and working. I felt the sudden urge to kiss him and had to bite it back. Instead, I drank in this sight of him, aware that I’d possibly never see him again. I followed the line of his neck down to his collar and back up. His chin was stubbled with dark hair, and I lamented that I’d never witness him growing into a man. His mouth began to move, and it took me a moment to realize he was speaking to me.

“I have to tell you something.”

My heart gave a leap. “Do you?”

Alister met my eyes for what felt like the first time in years. They were as clear as river water, yet I sensed some guardedness when I looked into them. “Do you know of Nessa?”

“The spinner’s daughter?” I recalled her, a girl who was a year or two younger than me but appeared much older, with her soft, flaxen hair and full, heavy breasts that strained the fronts of her dresses.

Alister looked uncomfortable. His gaze flickered away. “Yes.”

“What about her?”

Alister stared into the water. “We’re to be married in the spring.”

I flinched and was suddenly glad that Alister refused to look at my face. “I see.”

We endured the rest of the ride in uncomfortable silence, accompanied only by the sounds of waves slapping against the boat and oars cutting through water. The other man behind me cleared his throat, making me jump. I’d almost forgotten he was there at all.

“Viking longship just ahead.”

Alister’s jaw slackened, and his mouth fell open. I turned in my seat to see what he was looking at. The dragon-headed prow reared over us as we drew closer, casting a shadow onto our laps.

I was aware that I should have been afraid, but what I felt instead was, strangely, relief. Alister’s news had been painful to hear, but the last thing I wanted was to stay in my village and watch him marry Nessa. Perhaps it was a good thing, in the end. I’d never see Alister again, anyway, and this was his last gift to me as I faced an unknown future.

Those were my exact sentiments until I saw the Vikings’ faces peering over the side of the ship at me.

Then, I was frightened.


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