Carrie slept as she couldn’t remember sleeping before – an exhausted contented sleep. At around 7.00am she began to become conscious and glorious happy memories flooded back and she moaned as she stretched and moved her body. She reached out and panicked – the bed was empty. “It can’t have all been a dream!” her mind screamed as it commanded her eyes to begin opening. Sounds called for her attention, and she rose on one elbow; there came Cat bearing two large steaming mugs.

“Queen of my heart," he intoned, “I commanded tea fairies to attend but they have failed, and have been fed to the dragon Gringhast; I bring tea.”

“I thought we killed the dragon yesterday?” she said.

“I am the Lord of Time. I sent them back to Friday for his lunch.”

Carrie laughed. “Come here,” she said. A few minutes later she pushed him away. “Are you mine for today?” she asked.

“Today is a journey, and we travel it together. I mean that Carrie Nicholson. We have a lot still to find out about each other. So, today Carrie I am yours and, I hope, you are mine. There is something I had planned to go to this morning, which we can do together if you are comfortable with it, otherwise we can do something else.

“Fine, what do you want to do this morning?”

“I was planning to go to the service at the Minster at 10.00. I like to go, it feeds me spiritually, but this morning is a biggy. The dear old C of E will strut its stuff in grand style and it’s truly splendid. But I have to lay down a condition if you would like to come.” He paused and Carrie was still trying to assimilate what he was saying. Going to church was not on the radar of what she expected.

“Lots of people know me and if I arrive with a beautiful girl they will start adding two with two. So I want us to hold hands as we walk in the door. I want be sure they get to the sum of four. Would you mind if we held hands and walked into the Minster together, Carrie Nicholson?"

“What shall I wear?” she said.

Cat rolled onto the bed and took her into his arms. “We don’t have to worry about that for a couple of hours yet.”

The ‘couple of hours’ passed. They walked hand in hand towards the west door and Carrie was surprised by how many people there were.

“I’ve done some story telling workshops here,” explained Cameron, “with clergy in the main.”

Just before noon they walked back out into warm sunlight and Carrie had linked her right arm firmly into his left.

“That was wonderful Cat, I really found it moving. I have never seen anything like that procession. What are we going to do now?”

“A quick bite at the Red Lion and then I am going to introduce you to Brompton House, my house, where, if I’m lucky,” he leaned in closer and whispered in her right ear…

“YESS!” she squealed.

They each wolfed down a hot beef roll and shared a dish of chips, while enjoying a glass of Thwaites IPA. Carrie struggled to contain her excitement. “Can we begin the tour in the bedroom?” she asked.

Just after two o’clock, the taxi pulled up outside Brompton House on the Knaresborough Road. Carrie’s mouth hung open as she stared at this amazing building. It was huge. Just about all the other houses along that road had been turned into prestigious offices or boutique hotels. It stood three stories high.

“My bedroom is on the first floor at the back,” said Cat, as he guided the stunned Carrie up the steps to the enormous double door. She looked down some side steps to a separate entrance. “That’s the basement flat which I use as a den; once upon a time the servants would have lived down there.”

As soon as the door was closed Carrie was all over him, tearing at his clothes. “This way,” he said, grabbing her by the hand. They ran up the broad staircase and Carrie was only a split second behind, as Cat burst into his bedroom. As he reached the bed he turned and saw that Carrie was already stripped down to her panties, and these were kicked off in very short order. He cursed his shirt buttons, as Carrie had his trouser belt and zip released and was tugging his slacks from him. In moments both were naked; writhing, groping, sucking, kissing and with hands working independently to feel flesh. They rolled onto the bed; Carrie was taking no notice of the room, other than thinking she had never seen a bed quite as big.

Cat was sucking her nipples deep into his mouth while finger fucking her furiously. There was no finesse, just raw animal frenzy.

“Fuck me, Cat, fuck me hard. Get that prick inside me and get pounding please.” Reaching down she guided his prick into her cunt and gave a thoaty, earthy grunt as he pushed his length into her. “Yess, that’s it, now fuck me!”

Cat pushed himself up and began to pound the beautiful woman beneath him. He varied his speed and depth of thrus,t but knew he would be coming soon. Suddenly Carrie began to shudder and her cunt closed tightly on his prick.

“I’m cuuuuummming, arrgh! Arrgh aaah,” she gasped, as the tremors overtook her body. She felt Cat begin shooting strings of semen deep into her, and she locked her legs together behind him to pull his prick further inside her.

After lying there panting for a few minutes they rolled apart exhausted.

“Nobody, but nobody has ever given me orgasms like you Cat. Wow! That was amazing. It must be going to church that does it.”

Cat grinned. “Somehow, I don’t think so. I think it’s having such an amazing woman underneath me that does it. Thank you, my darling.”

They both lay recovering. Cat was gently stroking her nipples until she giggled and pushed his hand away. “I want to say a proper thank you to the source of my pleasure,” she said as she lowered her mouth to his now quietened cock. She lifted it gently to lick and suck softly, tasting both their juices and declaring him to be delicious. She continued to enjoy him until he began to harden just a little bit.

“I think,” said Cat, "that it’s time for a shower, a drink and then I introduce you to Brompton House properly."

They enjoyed the shower together and Carrie was impressed with the en suite bathroom. It was huge. Like her, he had a walk in shower with all round jets. The large corner bath was set up two steps, and equipped with a Jacuzzi. The toilet and bidet were set behind a discreet screen allowing for their use while someone else bathed. From a huge airing cupboard Cat retrieved two super soft robes. Carrie had to belt hers high to shorten it, which meant her breasts were easily visible; a state of affairs Cat declared to be most acceptable.

“The kitchen first, that’s where the wine is, and I will start to get a meal put together.”

“How long have you lived here?” asked Carrie.

“My Grandparents bought it just after the war and Mum and Dad passed it on to me when they went to live in Provence four years ago. I have done all the major changes to the basement, updated the kitchen and my bedroom, and my workspace upstairs which you will see in a bit."

"Right! I’ve got a nice piece of pork tenderloin which we can do in a creamy Calvados sauce with mushrooms and pancetta, simple rice and broccoli and carrots. Will that do, do you think? I don’t want to spend too much time cooking, I rather fancy a bit more lovemaking."

They explored the basement and Carrie thought to herself that it would be a perfect setting for a gathering of the girls. There were eight bedrooms in all, but Carrie was stunned by the huge work area on the top floor. The window opening on to a walkway around the roof and Carrie marveled at the long wide garden.

Inside, she explored the rows of bookshelves.

“My God!” she cried. “Lots of erotic stories.”

“I write under a few different names. I wrote those for the Black Lace series as Alicia de Lisle. When I post to the internet, I am Skald of Yorvik.”

“So you write for grown-ups, as well?”

“Girl, I will tell you some stories that will make your hair curl, and your clit masturbate itself.”

“Oh goody! I can’t wait.”

They carried their wine through the huge dining room onto the south facing patio. They were completely screened from view and Carrie slipped her robe off.

“I love being naked in warm sun. I love to feel the air flowing on my breasts and over my pussy, but there’s not a lot of opportunity as a rule.”

Cat slipped his robe off too and they walked into the garden hand in hand.

“We cannot be seen this side of the Oak tree – I like it too.”

Carrie turned to him with lust. “Tell me a story.”

“I take it you don’t mean one that I would recite in Waterstones?”

She nodded. “I had better tell you about our girl’s nights sometime. Samantha Donald was in my tutor group at Uni and we call her Sadie; if you can get as filthy as Sadie, I shall be very impressed. But first,” she put down her glass on a stone bench and knelt in front of him. She took his prick into her mouth and cupped his balls. She sucked gently while she caressed him and in moments the hardness began to return. Standing up she smiled at him and licked her lips. ”Regard that as a call to arms, Skald of Yorvik.”

“Basement,” he responded with a playful slap on her bum.

They picked up their robes and scampered inside.

“This is a Storyteller’s Chair. High back. They usually have arms and a wide seat but this I use when I want to keep turning to a seated audience. Now I am going to prepare you for storytime, come and stand in front of me.”

Cat drew her in. “You’re going to sit facing me with my prick inside your cunt. Hold on to the back of the chair.”

He began speaking close to her ear, while at times teasing her nipples and at others tracing a finger nail up her spine, or along the inside of her thighs. The plot unwound quickly but with a myriad of possible twists and turns. The true identity of characters was sometimes hidden, but the graphic descriptions of sexual acts began to work on Carrie. She was rocking back and forth and lifting herself a little as she was impaled on his cock. Her breathing became quicker; the tension she felt was heightened by his intermittent touching and caressing. The descriptions of squirting and of thick ropes of spunk, the orgasmic animal like sounds of the different players was like the events were happening in the room with them. Spunk dripping, being swallowed and shared was standard stuff, but the surprise payback and excitement lay in the highly detailed description."

“Payback’s going to be a bitch,” the wife of a cheating husband declared.

It was clear the story was reaching a crescendo that could not yet be perceived, and Carrie felt her own violent ejaculation beginning to build. Cat changed the use of his hands and began using her own fluids to tease and stimulate. He pushed a finger into her arsehole and began a finger fuck. This was followed by a description of sexual abandon that was so filthy, yet so erotic that she came to the verge. In a throaty growl and laboured breathing Cat whispered hard in her ear, “You are Giselle, this is happening to you now, this very second. You are feeling all that sloppy spunk in you, and on you – YESS, here comes more."

At this point Carrie screamed as her body was racked with tremors, and a seeming endless series of unbearable ecstasies. She exploded the most violent outpouring of cum, beyond anything she could have hitherto thought possible. Cat was saturated. He collected what he could to taste it and rubbed it over his body and hers but then, as she began to subside, he remained still. She had been to a height she didn’t know about, and he knew he had to help her down. He wrapped his arms around her in a loving embrace to let her feel she was safe, and to give her time. It needed a full five minutes, but eventually Carrie was controlling her breathing again.

Aftershock like tremors still shook her as she gazed into Cat’s eyes in awe. She tried to speak but could only croak.

“Carrie, my darling, I am going to lift you up now and help you into the armchair, and then I am going to bring you a glass of cordial. You need to drink it slowly.”

Ten minutes later her breathing was back to normal and she could walk and talk.

“Samantha Donald, you are not even in the junior league of story telling. My God! Cat that was scary.”

He made her drink two more glasses of Coconut and Lime cordial.

“Come with me, Carrie, my love, I think it’s Jacuzzi time. I will carry the drinks.”

They relaxed in the hot bubbling water; Carrie was grateful for the massaging effect of the jets and they began to laugh again. Their conversation was not about sex, well almost. Carrie talked about her job and work colleagues; Lotti and Sally on Reception, who had an internal radar that would identify that she had had sex this weekend, for the first time in a very long time.

Cat talked about a couple of schools he would be visiting that week, to tell stories before term ended. He talked about the time he had planned for writing.

“And when are you going to write about the Queen of All Hearts?”

“Not sure about that one yet, I think it may turn out to be an adult tale. In fact it might end up posted on the net. Now, I think it’s time I did some cooking. Would you like me to bring you another glass of wine?”

Carrie smiled and slid towards him. “Before you do that. I don’t recall you shooting any spunk into me when we were on the chair. I’m not sure my pussy could cope with anything more just yet, but my mouth could manage a bit of action. Stand up.”

It took only a few moments of softly treating the head of his cock like a lollipop for his erection to begin to grow. She soaped the middle finger of her right hand, and reached beneath him to push it into his arsehole. With a finger nail she traced lines up his thigh and along the length of his cock. Under this assault the pressure began to build.

“I’m going to cum," cried Cat, making to pull his cock out, but she held it firmly in place between her lips as he shot fresh strings of salty cream into her. Carrie squeezed every drop she could from him, then moved her head back. She lifted her face and opened her mouth, and he watched as she teased his creamy spunk around with her tongue for a few moments before swallowing.

“Thank you for my first course," she said.

Cat sat down on the side of the bath to recover. “Whew! That was one hell of a blow job girl.”

They ate their meal wearing their robes once more, and planned how they would see each other in the coming week.

Friday came and they were both a little relieved, that after the furious pace of their fucking over the last six days, that it was ‘girls’ night and their bodies could have a bit of a rest. Carrie explained that it was an evening of junk food, wine, salacious gossip, and possibly some truth or dare at Fiona’s. The ‘boys’ were going to the pub together, then they were all going back to Cherry and Robin’s flat to crash out so that the girls were not interrupted.

Carrie was the last to arrive, as she had meant to be. She didn’t want to have to start her telling them about Cat until they were all there. Sadie would begin interrogation the moment she saw her face; just as had Sally and Lotti in the office.

She couldn’t keep her grin off her face as she sat down with a glass of Merlot. Predictably it was Sadie who fired the first salvo staring hard at Carrie.

“You’ve been fucked haven’t you?” she cried.

“Don’t be so subtle Sade,” said Fiona, “try and be a bit more direct in future. Look at that smirk – Cherry! Check the menagerie. This cat has had the canary, warn the goldfish to get out of town."

“Come on girl – tell," yelled Sadie.

Carrie never had any intention of holding out on her friends, and they knew it, but the look on her face had them on tenterhooks for detail.

“Actually,” she said sweetly, “the Cat’s had me.”

“Fess up Carrie Nicholson and fast,” demanded Cherry, “who, where, when, how?”

“Length of cock, orgasm count, has he licked your pussy, have you BJ’d him, and has he fucked your ass yet?” asked Fiona.

“Anything kinky you need to tell us; bondage, water sports etc, come on girl start giving,” cried Sadie.

“Once upon a time …” began Carrie, whereupon she was met with cries of ‘Bullshit’; get on with it, etc.

“His name is Cameron Taylor – otherwise known as Cat Taylor, and he’s a Storyteller.”

“Yeah! He’s a man,” cried Sadie, “all lying bastards.”

Carrie paused wondering whether to continue, and she had the look of someone trying to reach a decision.

She needed her friends to be with her and listen to her story, and not just see it as cheap entertainment.

It was Cherry who brought them all down to earth ;it was always Cherry who could sense the need to change the mood. Tonight, she understood suddenly, could not be the usual raucous ribaldry of their gatherings. Something profound had happened to Carrie.

“Time out," she called firmly, “time out," she repeated softly. The room was quiet. Sadie, Fiona and Cherry sat still, and waited. Tears began to roll unchecked down Carrie’s face. Cherry put her arm around her and said quietly, “You’re okay Carrie, you’re okay.”

Suddenly through the tears Carrie began to laugh. “I’m sorry gang, I shouldn’t be crying. I feel so amazingly wonderful. It’s as if all my senses have been jacked up ten notches. I’ve been dying to tell you but everything has happened so fast, I can still hardly believe it.”

“Look, I’ll start again, but there is a lot to tell so why don’t we get the food on the go. Just a resume though to begin with; Yes, I have been fucked. BJs – yes, pussy licking - by the master of the craft, ass fuck – not yet, nothing kinky, length of dick – average, orgasm count - exponential and stratospheric,” she said ending the list with beaming cheesy grin.

The mood of the party was restored; they had a group hug and laughter returned. The questions rained down of the who, when, where type with none of the brashness that had so wounded. Carrie had been surprised that she had been so affected. She was still coming to terms with the intensity of her emotions. A selection of M&S’s takeaway dishes were put in the oven or micro-wave, plates and cutlery were already out, more wine was poured; lots more wine was poured.

Eventually they sat down round the kitchen table with a mountain of food before them, and they began to pile in. There was an air of expectancy and general sigh as Carrie announced she was about to begin.

She told them about Eric’s accident, her meeting Cat at Waterstones, the amazing coincidence of Princess Phoebe being a character in the book.

“That’s almost creepy,” said Fiona.

“Karma,” said Sadie, who was into that sort of thing.

She enchanted them with how Cat had the children enthralled.

“Classy lady,” remarked Cherry when she told them about Mrs Harper’s instruction.

Carrie held very little back about their first evening, and his spending the night with her. She was not graphic on her description of the sex, but she happily divulged that she had experienced multi orgasms that scaled new heights. “I have never cum on a first ‘bedding’ before she declared.”

Her friends listened in some awe and wonder; the deep feeling that Carrie poured into her words convinced them of their truth. There was what looked like a choreographed jaw drop, when she mentioned going to the Minster, and amazement at her description of the procession.

“Will you go again?” asked Fiona.

“Oh yes,” answered Carrie, “I had a real feeling I could be very comfortable in that community.”

She described their arrival at Brompton House, the house and the garden, the basement and the storyteller’s chair.

“He also writes books for Black Lace under the name Alicia de Lisle.”

Sadie cried out, “Bloody hell! I didn’t think that was likely to be her real name, but I never suspected she was a bloke. My God girl that’s one hot writer. I sometimes read sections to Phil in bed, if I really want to get him going.”

Carrie went on, “And when he posts stories on the internet he’s ‘Skald of Jorvik.”

“Nooooo!” screamed Sadie, “ I don’t effing believe it! You’ve been fucked by Skald of Jorvik? I check Lush almost every day in case he’s posted another story.”

“Sadie, do you do anything other than read porn?” asked Cherry, “Go on Carrie.”

“Well, Skald of Jorvik sat on his chair and told me a story. I think I actually lost consciousness during the orgasmic fallout.”

She paused and then went on.

“Lots more love and sex since then; also food, he is one hell of a good cook.”

Cherry stood up and began to intone in a deep voice. “Ladies of the jury, Carrie Jane Nicholson has been accused of finding an incredible man and of keeping him to herself. Do you find her guilty, or not guilty?”

“Guilty”, was the chorus.

Carrie laughed. She was relieved to have told her friends about Cat, and to know they were happy for her.

“More wine please,” she called, there’s more to come.”

“More? How can there be more after that? You’re pushing it girl; now what?” was the general tenor of the hubbub.

“Well, I told him about us as a group of friends – I told him about our ‘Girls Night’ gatherings. He had said to me at the Greedy Duck, “I know lots and lots of people, but I don’t actually have many close friends. I like to think you’re going to be a close friend Carrie. I think we now qualify as ‘close friends’, but as you are my friends, he wants to meet you too. He would like to tell you a story.”

“When?” cried Fiona.

“Bring it on girl,” shouted Cherry.

Sadie clamped her thighs around her fist and had an orgasm, a noisy one.

“How are we going to manage this?” asked Fiona. “I mean we’ve never involved any of the guys before.”

“Perhaps we ought to blindfold him,” suggested Cherry, ”remember how we all got a bit carried away when we had the porn and dildo night at Fiona’s? Carrie, is your man ready for four horny bitches frigging themselves silly in front of him?”

“Well, you’re making assumptions as to what sort of story it might be. It might be Alicia de Lisle or Skald of Yorvik, but it might also be Cat Taylor and I could invite Phoebe.”

The chant went up led by Sadie, “We want Skald.”

Two weeks later the girls gathered at Carrie’s apartment in an atmosphere of excitement and apprehension. They had done some crazy things together, but this was somehow surreal. Carrie wanted them all to arrive at Brompton House together and had ordered a taxi for 6.30pm. Fiona, Sadie and Cherry had overnight bags with them, as they would all be staying the night. Carrie already kept a good supply of things at Cat’s. He had turned over the second en suite room to her to be her own space. She used it, but hadn’t slept in the bed yet.

“Remember girls,” said Carrie, “you can look, but you better not touch.”

The taxi pulled up at Brompton House and they piled out.

“Bloody hell Carrie! All of it?” asked Cherry.

Carrie led the way and once through the door they all stopped, wide-eyed. They stared at the walls covered with paintings, and at the wide staircase leading up to a balconied landing skirting three sides. They were also immediately aware of the wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen.

“Where is he Carrie? Bring him out, or have you got him chained to the cooker?” demanded Sadie.

As if on cue Cat appeared out of the short corridor that ran to the kitchen. “Welcome friends of Carrie Nicholson to Brompton House, and to a night of feast and story. There may be surprises in store for us all this evening. Everyone has a part to play, and from what Cas tells me you will enter into the spirit of things wholeheartedly; I certainly hope so. But I am failing as a host. Please leave your bags for a moment and follow me into the library.”

They were all captivated by his voice, and did as they had been bidden.

“Drink this cup of welcome friends,” said Cat as he handed them each an intricate drinking vessel. "It is an aperitif wine from the Ariege, known as Hippocras.”

They drank and toasted the night to come, each girl feeling an air of enchantment fall upon her.

“In a moment Carrie will show each of you to your rooms, and the necessary facilities of the house. In your rooms you will find a simple white and gold gown, which I hope you will change into. I shall also dress for a different part while you are doing so. Carrie will show you the house, and then we shall meet on the lawn and take wine together.” He bowed from the waist and took his leave.

“Wow!” said Fiona; a sentiment they all shared. Carrie felt a deep welling up of joy and pride.

Wearing their gowns they felt like temple acolytes. They met Cat in the garden, and he was dressed in a rich knee length tunic and tabard. They drank wine together as Cat got to know each of them better. He needed to be able to direct them in the parts they might play, he explained.

“Samantha Donald -Sadie! Cas tells me you do a bit of story writing yourself. What name do you use if you post to the net?”

“I use the name ‘Charade’, she answered, “but I don’t think I’m any sort of a writer, certainly not in your league.”

“Ha!” responded Cat. “Skald of Yorvik is honoured to meet Charade. I have read your work on Lush. ‘Gemma should have stayed at home’ is a jewel’. Your ‘A worm turns’ was brilliant, except for the title. It gave something of the conclusion away because the twist at the end was breath-taking. I salute you.”

“Golly Sadie,” declared Cherry, “hidden depths it seems.”

Sadie herself was amazed.

They went back into the house and Cat led the way into the dining room, which he had prepared especially for the occasion. The place settings sparkled from the light of candles, the heavy curtains had been drawn and there was almost no sign of daylight. By each chair stood a deep bowl of warm water on a stand, with a hand towel on a rail. Draped over each seat was a deep red smock which they were instructed to put on over their gowns. The purpose of these was soon obvious, this was to be a dinner eaten with their hands. Each had a small dagger like knife to help tear at food. A large, round fresh baked loaf was within the reach of them all to tear at, and be dipped in rich sauces. It was to be a vegetarian’s nightmare; but none such were present.

At each place setting was a name card – fresh identities for the evening. “Carrie, you are now Ljota. Cherry, you shall be Arndisa; Sadie you are Bergdis and Fiona you are Froydis.”

Cat wheeled in a trolley from which he took plates of Langoustine, lobster and oysters for each of them. Champagne was poured into heavy goblets. As they began their feast Skald talked. He recounted some short erotic stories with a voyeuristic or exhibitionist theme. At times he challenged each by her new name to say what she thought might happen next, and the stories became bawdier and the conversation got more lewd very quickly.

A sorbet was brought in, for which small wooden spoons were provided.

A heated trolley and warming cabinet was rolled in with the most wonderful aroma of roasted meats. Great platters were set down. There were small ribs of beef on the bone, whole poussin, lamb cutlets and bowls of green salad. They drank dark red wines.

The stories now took on the theme of illicit sex, and the physical descriptions became more and more graphic; all enthusiastically embellished by the girls. Arndisa was seduced by two work colleagues while away on a conference, the sort of conference that Cherry would actually go to. Just how she opened her legs as she sat on each of their faces, just what happened when she squirted was all detailed. Such was the banter that had built up, along with the alcohol, Arndisa/Cherry began to hope this fantasy might one day be a reality.

Bergdis had a different man in her bed every Saturday night and each thought her husband was away. In reality her husband was in a spare room watching everything via CCTV. Bergdis/Sadie would send her lover on his way, but remain on the bed just as she had been fucked. Her husband would come in and find her pussy leaking cum, or her face and tits splattered. They would then fuck each other senseless, all the while using the filthiest language they could. Bergdis/Sadie and her husband had actually tried this; but even the Friday night sessions had not drawn it out of her. She sat at the table quivering with sexual excitement, as she both listened and re-lived.

Froydis had lost a game of cards. Holding a hand of three kings and two queens she had felt invincible, but having no chips left, she bet her body to her opponent. He had made her up it by saying she had to give herself to all four of the men around the table. She had agreed. Then her opponent had turned over four aces and a Jack. Froydis/Fiona listened aghast, and enthralled, at what she had then been obliged to endure.

Arndisa, Bergdis and Froydis were excited beyond anything they had experienced. Their anticipation of what Ljota would be doing had them holding their breath. But Cat changed the game.

“Now, it is time to begin the account of the Four Maidens of Thorvald’s Fjord,” he declared in the manner of Skald. Come to the storytelling chair for you are each to be ravished.”

The girls found the reality he injected into his tone a little disconcerting, but they followed him to the basement.

They sat on four low cushioned chairs set in a quarter circle before the storytelling chair, which was raised on a 10” dais. Each girl had a low table by her side, and a flagon of mead.

Cat took his chair. “I am Skald of Yorvik,” he intoned, “I will tell you the tale of the feud between Ragnar Fjallgeirson and Hallbjorn Thorvaldson, and what happened in Thorvald’s Fjord. For you; Arndisa Thorvaldsdottir, Bergdis Thorvaldsdottir, Froydis Thorvaldsdottir and Ljota Thorvaldsdottir; your lives hang in the balance.”

“When Ragnar Fjallgeirson was voyaging in the Black Longboat, Hallbjorn raided Fjallgeirsfjord and Alvi, the wife of Ragnar was made slave. The Black Longboat of Ragnar Fjallgeirson has now come to Thorvaldsfjord, and the fury of Odin is in Ragnar’s heart. In silence did the oarsmen bring the Black Longboat to Thorvald’s Landing, and in silence did they come ashore; sword and axe in hand. Like a great wave breaking on the Skerries of Valhalour, in the Ragnarok when the Aesir and the Vanir were at war, did they come upon the Hall of Hallbjorn Thorvaldson.”

“Daughters of Hallbjorn Thorvaldson, your father’s enemy is among you and he seeks justice; Your lives are like to be forfeit.”

Each of them was caught up in the tale. When Arndisa was ravished by six men in turn, leaving her a quivering sated wreck, cum soaked and dripping, Cherry felt exhausted. Likewise Bergdis experienced sensations of ecstasy mixed with shame, that left Sadie numb. Froydis suffered the oarsmen to have their way and cried in passion for more. “Nourish me with the seed of such warriors,” she cried, “that my daughters may be found worthy by Thor himself.”

“Then was brought Ljota before Ragnar, and she stood proud."

" Stay!” cried Alvi, wife of Ragnar, “hear me Lord, though I have been dishonoured in your eyes. Hear me, for the love we once had, hear me Lord.”

“Speak Alvi Bjarndirsondottir, and I will hear.”

“Lord, Hallbjorn Thorvaldson took your wife and shamed you but he was a kind man. Kill him now as you must, but put a sword in his hand so that he might die thus, and so enter the Halls of Valhalour. I will die on the pyre of his funeral ship and accompany him on his journey; but know that I take with me also the sweet memory of you my Lord. Do not ravish the fair Ljota, but take her instead for your wife; to comfort you in your hall in the long nights of dark, to serve you ale and wine, and to weave you a fine cloak.”

“It shall be as you wish Alvi Bjarndirsondottir, if the maid will indeed serve me thus, and not be some sullen grudge. How say you girl?”

Cherry, Sadie and Fiona were so caught up in the story that they jumped when Carrie spoke,

“Lord, serve my father now with honour, and it shall be as the lady has said. I will prove to you that it will be so, never fear except if you see me as an idle plaything deserving no pleasure for herself.”

With that Carrie stood; and in one movement removed her gown and stood before Cat naked. She stepped towards him and uncovered his cock and sat down slowly upon it.

Cherry, Sadie and Fiona were stunned; thrilled, but stunned. In all their Friday nights there had never been nudity, and certainly nothing like the love making going on before them. And lovemaking it was. This was not Ljota and Ragnar, but Carrie and Cat. The climax was something to behold. The girls could see the spunk leaking from Carrie and their ears still rang with her screams of ecstasy. They sat still, and quiet, while their friend recovered. Eventually Cherry and Fiona helped her over to a settee.

After several more minutes Cat stood up, and let his tabard drop to cover himself. He crossed the room to a large bureau and took something from a drawer. He returned and knelt down before Carrie.

“Carrie, my darling! Are you with us?”

“I, I think so. Wow, yes, but – wow, that was amazing.”

“Carrie, my darling, will you let me put my Grandmother’s ring on your finger, to hold the space until we choose one together? Will you be my wife, and the mistress of Brompton House?”