Free THE VICTORY DANCE by Mahogany SilverRain Page B

he set her down and removed her apron dress and tunic, her nakedness moved him. Even after birthing ten sons, the queen’s lovely shape was still intact. Her skin glowed in the firelight. Her slender waist gave way to her curvy hips with thickly muscled legs and shapely calves. A low throaty, lustful sound came from the king as roughly slipped out of his own clothing almost ripping them to shreds. As the queen started to move toward the bed, the king stopped her.
    “ No, just stand there, let me look at you,” he bellowed. He wanted to savor her, this moment forever. Then he remembered the drinking horn of blood from the battle kills.
    The horn, topped with brass, depicted Viking lovers kissing at the base and the tip was brass in the shape of a dragon’s head.
    He quickly retrieved the horn, taking only a sip, letting some of the liquid drip down his chin to his smooth tanned skin. The queen’s eyes lit up with pure lust. She licked her lips as she watched the blood trickle down his skin. She dared not move until he told her too.
    Seeing the wild look his queen’s eyes, the king beckoned her with his finger and she rushed to him, growling as she licked the blood from his chest.
    He moved her back a bit pouring blood onto her breasts. Smearing the blood of his enemies on each other was the part of the ritual known to the king and queen as the “Victory Dance”. The queen, blood soaked, danced sensually for the king, touching him, teasing him, grinding her body seductively against him.
    He fondled her breasts, throwing the horn to the floor and sucked her dark pointed nipples. She pulled from him, turning her backside to him, gyrating in a sensual dance against his swollen member which throbbed eagerly. The king bent her forward, undoing her raven hair from its knot. He yanked her hair pulling her against him roughly as she continued to grind her hips against him.
    “ Damn you woman, no more teasing, on your knees!” He ordered. He couldn’t stand it anymore, he wanted her, needed her, missed her, loved her.
    She quickly obeyed, getting on all fours on the soft rug by the fire, hoisting her butt in the air as easy access for her king. He dropped to his knees behind her rubbing his hands over her smooth bottom now slick with blood. His member, heavy and throbbing, sought her entrance. He took her slow at first then pounded her hard with quick thrusts till she screamed and clung tightly to the rug below.
    Flipping her onto her back, he pushed her legs up and licked the insides of her thighs making his way to her cream filled center. The taste of her excited him all the more, but he refrained from release so he could continue to tease and please her. Using his fingers as well as his tongue, he probed her insides bringing her to orgasm so many times that she lost count.
    Completely soaked by blood and her juices, he climbed up her body, keeping her legs over his shoulder and shoved the bulbous head of his manhood inside. Deeper and deeper he pushed himself inside of her.
    There was no other who made him feel this way. She excited him in ways he couldn’t comprehend. He was as thrilled with her as the day they met some twenty years ago.
    The queen writhed gloriously beneath him, matching his stride, urging him on with her hips, tightening her legs around his neck. He rode her this way, wild and hard, changing positions, laying her on her side, letting her ride him as he gently rubbed the throbbing nub between her legs with one hand while twisting her right nipple with the other. She loved the sensation in both breasts but favored the right one. More intense was the pleasure on the right side. He did this until she had another orgasm. After she was thoroughly satisfied, then, and only then, would he release his essence before softly collapsing on his side. This dance would continue for three days straight with only a few breaks in between for sleeping, eating, drinking and bathing each other.
    On the final night as she