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To Be Owned

800 | Frigga/Sif | NC-17 (KB: exhibitionism/exposure)






Sif is rarely truly afraid of what her lady bids, of agreeing to whatever she may wish. Her lady has asked her to crawl like a dog, to eat from a dish like a pet, and she did not hesitate. She wishes to be Frigga’s. Frigga’s eyes upon her fill her with a want and a desire that cannot be quenched. It is always like a fire under her skin, and every touch from her queen only stokes the flame.

“Do you wish to be marked as mine,” Frigga says again. It is a question, but it feels almost like a command. Her voice is softer, though, as if she is not quite sure such a request will be met with approval from Sif.

Sif bows her head, her hands behind her back. She is naked and kneeling before the queen’s bed, wet at just the thought of what Frigga may do to her there. “How, my queen?” She has marks from Frigga’s whip, lashes that she let heal at the normal rate at the thought that they may scar.

Frigga laughs and touches Sif’s jaw, bringing her face up to look. “Nothing so dangerous as a badly healed cut,” she says, and her voice is chiding. “Thor mentioned your refusal to go to the healers after our last session, and I do not wish you scarred by anything we do here.” She kisses Sif. “I ask one last time. Do you wish to be marked as mine?”

Sif licks her lips. “Yes,” she says, and her voice is unsteady. She cannot describe what it would be to have a mark of Frigga’s favor upon her body. “I want to be marked as yours.”

“Oh, my pet, you had but to ask,” Frigga murmurs and she kisses Sif again, drawing her to her bed. “I have taken many a young warrior to my bed, but you are the only one I wish to keep. If I mark you, you understand that you are mine, that you will take no other pleasures but those I allow.”

“Yes, your majesty,” she whispers, meeting Frigga’s eyes. Frigga shoves two fingers into her cunt, and she is already wet. It feels wonderful. “I will have no lover but you, no matter what realm I am on.”

“I did not say that, pet. If I wish to share you, you will go willingly to another’s bed, for my pleasure.” She adds yet another finger, her thumb pressing against Sif’s clit, and she cries out. “And if you ask to take another to your bed, and I approve, I will allow it. I want nothing but your happiness, child.”

Sif shivers, trying to keep her hips still. “Yes,” she whispers, and she cries out when Frigga’s teeth graze across her nipple.

“Even if I were to share you with the All Father, to let him see you coming apart?” Frigga’s words are warm against Sif’s breast, and they should make Sif’s feverish need slacken, but she cannot think beyond Frigga’s fingers inside her cunt.

“Yes, yes, please, I want to be yours,” Sif gasps, and she won’t come without permission. She is too well trained.

Frigga kisses her then, hard and fierce. “I am going to call someone in here, and I am not going to stop. When you are marked, you may come,” she says, and her fingers move faster, her little finger almost pushing in.

Frigga pulls back, and there is a clamp around her nipple. She looks up to see one of the ladies there, one of Frigga’s weavers, and a needle is in her hand. Sif frowns, but then there is a needle pushing into her skin. It hurts, sharp and sudden, and Frigga’s fourth finger pushes in, stretching her.

“Be still,” Frigga murmurs, and Sif tries. She wants to be good, to be worth of this, and she feels another needle pushing into her skin. She can’t stop waves of pleasure, and she can’t be quiet and still. Gasps fall from her lips, and she thinks she sees pity on the lady’s face.

“We will do the other at another time, when she has healed.” Frigga’s free hand brushes over Sif’s unpierced nipple. “I will have her chained.” There is such joy on her face when she says it, that Sif cannot keep herself from going over that edge, clenching tight around Frigga’s fingers as she screams her pleasure.

Sif looks down at the gold ring through her nipple. She cannot help herself from touching it, the blood that is just around the hole. “I am yours then.” Her voice sounds peaceful, and she cannot stop looking at the ring, the way it catches the firelight.

“And I cannot wait to show you off,” Frigga says, voice warm. “Sleep now, pet. We have time before we can play with your marking.”

Sif cuddles to her side, her head in Frigga’s lap, and she is asleep far too quickly, warm and content with knowledge of her place.

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June 2013

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