locketofyourhair: (ducky)
[personal profile] locketofyourhair

850 | Frigga/Sif/Odin | NC-17 (KB: humiliation [situational])

She knows that belonging to Frigga, to be marked as hers, means that there will be things she does not like. Most is not bad. She almost enoys it. Serving mead for Frigga’s guests is hardly demeaning. She is a warrior. She has served warriors before. Serving another lady mead is no different.

It is when Frigga calls Sif to her bedchambers late into the evening, late enough that Sif had been nearly asleep herself. She pulls on her robes and goes with her hair loose down her back. She doesn’t bother with sandals, her feet slapping against the cold stones.

Frigga is waiting for her in the first room, smiling in a way that makes Sif cold. There’s something hard to it, something calculating. “Oh, my dear,” Frigga says, and she takes Sif’s robe from her shoulders. “I did not mean for you to rush, but thank you.”

Sif smiles and she takes the kiss Frigga offers her. “Shall I strip, your majesty?”

Frigga smiles, touching Sif’s cheek. “Good girl.”

She’s not wearing armor, just the soft shift for sleeping, and Frigga’s servants have seen her naked a hundred times. She runs a hand through her hair and then goes to her knees, arms behind her back like Frigga has taught her. One of the ladies puts a blindfold onto her.

Frigga takes her hand and leads her into bed chamber. Sif can tell from the smell of the lamps. Frigga loves the scented oils, and her room always feels smaller for it. She can feel the ashes on her skin. “I am having company, and you have been requested,” she says.

Sif’s heart begins to pound. She does not know who Frigga would share her with, and she knows that this was part of the arrangement, but to know that she will be shared makes her face burn. “Will I see their face?”

“Only if he wills it,” Frigga says as she helps Sif onto the bed. “Hands behind your head, and remain still until I tell you otherwise.”

Sif knows her breathing betrays her apprehension, the fear that a warrior will see her like this. She knows that there are whispers? But to actually be seen this way, all of her pride stripped away because of her love of Frigga, terrifies her.

Frigga touches her back, just below her hair. “You will be splendid,” she whispers. “I have no doubts in that.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Sif murmurs, and then she hears Frigga leave the room. She can hear a man speaking in the antechamber, Frigga’s own soft voice. For a moment, she fears that it will be Thor or Balder, a friend who will see her in her most debased state, the rings Frigga has give her plain to the open air.

The door opens again, and Frigga laughs. “As I told you, love, she is most obedient.”

“Beautiful,” the man says, and Sif’s heart stops, for she knows the voice. In all her time in Frigga’s bed, she had not thought about the Allfather coming to join them, that he would wish to see his wife’s toy. She burns with the shame of him seeing her nude and marked, and also with her own stupidity.

She bows her head, and Frigga laughs. “See how she blushes. What would you like of her? She is eager, aren’t you, pet?”

Sif licks her lips and has to swallow before she can say, “Yes, my queen.” Her body is hot with the humilation of this, and--worse--the first hot spike of arousal at her position.

Odin touches her thigh, and Sif cannot move away from him. She cannot hide her face from this shame. “I would very much like to take her, if such an act would not upset you.” He touches her face then, and then the blindfold is off and she is staring into the All-Father’s too kind eye.

Frigga laughs. “Sif, show the Allfather how much the idea pleases you, to be taken by him.”

Sif’s hands feel shaky as she takes them down from her head. She cannot meet their eyes as she spreads her own legs and slides one hand between, where her body has betrayed her. Sif raised her wet fingers up, to show the All Father, and she still cannot look at him.

Odin’s fingers turn her face to his, and there is the ghost of something familiar to his eye. “I think you shall ride me, and you shall hold my gaze as you go. Do you not wish that, child?”

Sif’s throat is hot with her shame now, and her body pulses again. She can almost feel herself becoming wetter at the thought of being forced to watch as he finds his pleasure in her.

She is not prepared for Frigga to push fingers into her cunt, and she cannot stop the moan that falls from her lips. “I daresay she is as eager as I have ever seen her, the wanton slut.” Sif shudders from the pleasure and the knowing that she wishes to be undone so more than anything. She wishes nothing more than the king to see her in her dishonor.
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June 2013

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