The next morning dawned over Ve?y, the sun slicing through the lingering haze of smoke and debauchery left by the Victory Orgy. The ctter of pots and the faint sizzle of meat drifted through the wooden walls of the longhouse, carried on the morning breeze. Downstairs, in the kitchen, Líf stood by the hearth, stirring a pot of stew with a wooden spoon. Her blue hair, still wild from the night before, was tied back loosely, strands falling over her shoulders. She wore a simple tunic that barely contained her massive tits, the fabric stretched taut across her curves, hinting at the body that had dominated the orgy just hours ago. Beside her was Emily, the old English sve, hunched over a sb of raw fish, slicing it with a dull knife. Her hands trembled slightly, her wrinkled face pale and drawn, her tattered clothes hastily patched together after being torn apart in the forest.

  Líf gnced at Emily, her sharp eyes narrowing as she noticed the old woman's sluggish movements. "Are you alright, Emily?" she asked, her voice gruff but ced with an unusual softness for a Viking of her stature. Emily nodded quickly, keeping her gaze fixed on the fish. "Yes, I'm fine, mistress," she murmured, her voice hoarse and strained. "Just a little sick, that's all." Líf frowned, setting the spoon down and wiping her hands on her apron. "You don't have to push yourself so hard in the kitchen," she said. "If you ever need a break, I can take over. You've served us long enough to rest when you want." Emily managed a weak smile, her yellowed teeth briefly visible. "Thank you, mistress," she replied, her tone grateful but muted.

  Beneath her words, though, churned a truth she'd never dare reveal—not with Asvald's dagger threat still echoing in her mind. Emily wasn't sick; she was sore, her frail body aching from the brutal fucking Asvald had inflicted on her by the river. In her 30 years of svery on this isnd, she'd endured beatings, starvation, and countless indignities, but nothing had prepared her for this. Asvald's enormous cock had stretched her old, hairy cunt to its breaking point, pounding into her until her screams turned to moans, until she'd surrendered to a pleasure she hadn't known in decades. The memory clung to her—his rough hands squeezing her sagging tits, his hot cum spilling out of her as she y sprawled in the mud—and it stirred her more than she could ever confess. Her thighs remained sticky with the remnants of his seed, and every twinge of pain between her legs sent a shameful jolt of excitement through her worn-out frame. She'd never tell Líf, not just because of Asvald's threat to slit her throat, but because the sensation of that monstrous dick inside her had rekindled something she'd thought long extinguished.

  Líf turned back to the stew, oblivious to the storm raging in Emily's mind, and muttered something about needing more salt. Emily kept slicing, her hands steadying as she buried her thoughts deep, forcing them down like stones in a well. The kitchen filled with the warm aroma of cooking fish and boiling broth, a sharp contrast to the cold, muddy forest where Asvald had cimed her. She'd survived 30 years of svery on this brutal isnd, but the previous night had marked her in a way she couldn't erase—and a dark, hidden part of her didn't want to.

  ....

  It was nightfall when I returned to the longhouse, my body aching from a full day of hunting in the wilds around Ve?y. My father, Ragnar, had summoned me to his room to talk, a message delivered by one of his men while I was out tracking deer. I stepped into the house, the air warm and thick with the smell of woodsmoke and roasted meat. Dropping my axe and bow in my room, I headed straight to my parents' chamber, my boots thudding against the wooden floor. When I pushed open the heavy door, I wasn't surprised by what I saw: Ragnar was ft on his back on the fur-covered bed, fucking Líf as she straddled him. Her massive hips rocked back and forth, her enormous ass jiggling with every thrust, while my father pounded her from below, his hands gripping her thighs. Her blue hair swung wildly, her huge tits bouncing as she moaned like a bitch in heat.

  I didn't flinch. This wasn't the first time I'd walked in on them, and it wouldn't be the st. "What do you want, Father?" I asked, my voice ft, cutting through the wet sounds of their fucking. Ragnar gnced at me, his scarred face glistening with sweat, but he didn't stop thrusting. "My son, we need to talk," he grunted, his cock smming into Líf's dripping cunt. "But I can't leave your mother half-fucked—that's not the warrior way." With that, he grabbed Líf's hips tighter, lifting her slightly to spread her wide. Her pussy, stuffed with his dick, glistened with their juices, while her tight, empty asshole winked at me. "Stick it in the other hole," Ragnar said, grinning. "That way, you won't get bored while we talk."

  Truth be told, I didn't feel like fucking Líf. She was a MILF—hot as hell with her curvy body and insatiable lust—but my taste ran to GILFs, older, wrinkled women like Emily. I'd fucked Líf plenty of times before, mostly to prove my manhood in this cn. Hell, I'd even lost my virginity to her at 13, her tight pussy breaking me in while Ragnar watched with pride. But refusing my father's offer wasn't an option—a hole never went to waste in Ve?y, and rejecting it would earn me a beating or worse. So I sighed, dropped my pants, and grabbed my cock, jerking it quickly to get it hard. My dick, bigger than Ragnar's thick monster, swelled in my hand, the head already leaking precum. I climbed onto the bed, positioned myself behind Líf, and shoved my entire length into her asshole with one rough thrust. She gasped, her body jolting as I filled her, her tight ring stretching around me.

  As I started fucking her ass, smming my hips against her jiggling cheeks, I kept talking. "So why'd you call me?" I asked, my voice steady despite the rhythm of my thrusts. Ragnar groaned, his cock working Líf's pussy in sync with me. "The Roman King's asked me to act as an intermediary between him and the King of Wessex," he said, his breath ragged. "I'm sending you on the journey as my emissary." I blinked, surprised, my cock buried deep in Líf's ass. "You serious?" I grunted, gripping her hips as she moaned louder. "Dead serious," he replied, thrusting harder. "Everything's ready. You sail tomorrow morning."

  I didn't argue. "Fine then," I said, my voice steady as I smmed into Líf's ass with fresh intensity, my cock driving deep into her tight hole, making her massive cheeks quake against my hips. Ragnar raised an eyebrow, probably thinking I'd hesitate, but I didn't. Truth be told, the idea of traveling that far, to nds I'd only heard about in hushed tales around the fire, sparked a hunger in me I couldn't deny. It was settled: I'd accepted the mission, my new adventure as intermediary. And what better way to seal the deal than this—a father and son pact, cemented with our cum inside Líf? Ragnar grinned, clearly pleased, and kept fucking her pussy, his thick shaft pumping into her dripping cunt with savage rhythm. I matched him, pounding her ass, my dick—bigger than his—stretching her wide until she was a trembling mess between us.

  Líf let out a massive, guttural moan that shook the room, her body shuddering as we filled her holes to the brim. Ragnar gripped her hips, his thrusts deep and deliberate, his cock buried in her pussy, ready to mark the agreement. I clutched her fbby ass, ramming into her anus, my own excitement building. This was it—our way of giving the deal its final stamp. With a low growl, I felt the rush hit me, and I came hard, bsting thick, hot jets of cum deep into her ass, flooding her until it leaked out around my shaft, dripping down her thighs onto the furs. At the same instant, Ragnar roared, his seed erupting into her cunt, pouring a torrent of cum into her pussy, mingling with the filthy mess already there from the orgy. It was our brutal celebration: me accepting the journey, him sending me off, both of us unloading inside her—me in her ass, him in her pussy—to seal the pact with our release.

  Líf shuddered violently, caught in the throes of her own orgasm, her scream echoing off the walls before she slumped forward onto Ragnar's chest, panting heavily. We pulled out, my cock slick with cum and her juices, his dripping with the same. The room stank of sex, the furs beneath us soaked with our mess. Ragnar cpped a hand on my shoulder, still catching his breath. "Good d," he said, his voice rough but approving. "You're ready for this journey. Make me proud." I nodded, wiping the sweat from my brow, my mind already drifting to the voyage ahead—Wessex, Rome, a world beyond this isnd of blood and lust.