Winter Nights

Story Info
A runaway is subdued during the festival of Winter Night .
5.7k words
4.45
28.4k
9
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Once upon a time there was a little village whose hills were covered in mountain mint. In the village there lived a merchant whose greed was matched only by his ambition. Though his fistful ways were well known, haggard women could still be coaxed to tell his tale, a tale of wistfulness and despair. Long ago, or so they say, the merchant had fallen in love with one of the blonde haired huldra, a creature of the forest that mortal men fear to resist. And the young man was so fair-faced and right-hearted that the huldra herself had consented to house with him, had born him three daughters before her discarded immortality caught up with her and she expired. They say that on the day she died the young man began his lifelong quest to line his pockets with gold. They say that the glitter of the burnished coins is all that he takes comfort in. They say it reminds him of the huldra's shiny, golden hair.

And though his daughters have inherited their mother's beauty, the villagers warn that it will be their doom.

It is autumn, a time for marriages, and Heidi the merchant's middle daughter certainly agrees. For the price of a beautiful face, her older sister Hanna had been sold last year for a hefty sum, to an aged, landowner renowned for his great wealth and cruel heart, who split open her sister's maiden legs with mirthless, greedy hands. And now it was Heidi's turn, to offer up skin as pale as the moonlit beach and green eyes the color of the stormy sea... to pledge her hand, if not her heart to the lust of a wealthy stranger, to fill her father's purse at the cost of her very soul.... But she is not like her sister, poor docile Hanna, who will suffer a lifetime of nights pleading for her husband's mercies. Heidi closes her eyes. "Never" she whispers.

In her lap, Heidi holds an embarrassment of riches sent from afar, luxurious fabrics, damasks and rich furs, finery fit for the life she will lead as a consort of a nobleman in the far-away city. Her long fingers caress the wares... the village had never beheld such extravagance... and Heidi had marveled to hear tell of the city lights that shone brighter than the stars on a cold winter's night. But city lights did not compare with freedom, and Heidi has made up her mind.

So that is why in the stillness of a moonless night, Heidi leaves her childhood home, stooping only once to kiss the head of her slumbering sister, Elli; hesitating before indulging in one single extravagance... sheathing her body in the lavish warmth of a fur lined red, velvet cloak stolen from her own trousseau. Drawing the hood over her fox colored hair, filling a leather pouch with too few resources for her survival, Heidi quietly slips out the door and into the woods beyond.

The night air is a jolt upon her face, her cheeks are dusted with starlight; the curling leaves crackle underneath her feet. The tree boughs cast grim shadows against her skin. Heidi gulps... the forest is aged and full of unknowns, peopled with evils and mysteries... but for a proud girl with a head full of dreams, a dark wood full of questions is far more pleasurable than a life bereft of joy. Heidi skirts the edge of the forest, slips between the trees, careful to keep her bearings, to keep the sloping sound of the river to her left, the beating of her heart at a respectable din. There are noises in the woods that she cannot explain. And Heidi is the daughter of a huldra; she knows the old ways. And there are hiinsi to worry about as well.

Stealthily Heidi moves deeper into the forest, her scarlet cloak bleeding into the night. The trees are dense and unchartered and the villagers claim that there are knowledgeable druids who reside inside the forest depths, tomes and secrets of ancient worth. Heidi lowers her hood. Her sleek hair is the color of red clay roads, of brushfires in the summer and of wild ponies. Somewhere in the darkness a rabbit screams. Heidi starts, reaches instinctively to clutch the talismans hidden in her leather pouch, an even cross hewn of twigs of oak, knotted with a thin red cord; an intricately carved dagger... she hopes it is enough to keep the dark spirits away.

She plods on through the forest, away from her home, for miles she travels steadfastly. She is scared, but undeterred by the startling sounds: the scurries in the underbrush, the howls of craven wolves in the distance, of patrolling owls and other signs of darkness.

On the horizon the sky is just beginning to lighten, and the night is rife with activity. There is a fair mist rising from the forest floor. It dampens her senses though it quickens her pulse. And she does not hear the thud of their footfalls until they are upon her, the great, lumbering hiinsi with their glittering obsidian eyes, who are upon her in an instant, scrambling over her terrified body their thick black claws ripping her thin chemise to shreds. Her screams are muffled as she is rolled under their heavy bodies, her brick red hair ground into the fertile forest floor. And the goblin ilk is upon her.

Heidi shrieks, covers her face with her hands, hears the tough fabric of her buttermilk breeches tear, the weight of their furry bodies... she feels her sanity giving way to a rush of panicked hysteria. She hears a cry amidst the tumult, a great lurch of the savage beasts; she feels her legs slide out from under her, pulled by invisible hands. She is tangled in folds of red velvet and fur, the forest gloom is dense. There is a man, suddenly upon her, a great, hulking shadow, caught between the demon din. Heidi stumbles to her feet; she is grasping her finely wrought dagger, and her hands are shaking with sweat. There are at least four creatures, horrible creature with soulless eyes of pitch; Heidi swallows, steadies her hand, raises her long pale arm...

"Put it away, you fool" it is the labored voice of the fighting man "Your metal cannot hurt a creature of the spirit world."

Heidi cringes; she fears that the man will surely die. But even before she can avert her pretty green eyes, the ruckus is slowly subsiding, the beasts brought gradually to bay, bound as Heidi sees at last by a silken cord as thin as wire.

Heidi is amazed. "What kind of devil are you?" she asks.

The man is knotting the silver threads.

"Your gratitude is impressive" he replies.

The beasts grow quiet under his grasp; he has trussed them tightly and tied them to a tree.

"Won't the string break?" she asks at last. "It looks like it cannot possibly hold."

"It is gleipnir" he explains, "and it will hold."

She studies him then in the rosy dawn, his tall, dense body, his tangle of wavy, dark hair, his eyes that are blue like melancholy chords. The man is sweating; he bears a gash across his temple. When he is done he sits himself under tall pine tree to rest.

"Do you always travel so ill-advised, mistress?" he asks her as she gathers her courage to approach him, to staunch the blood with her cool, white hands.

"What is your name??" she says by way of an answer.

The man lifts his heavy hand, slides it under her cloak, peeling away the fabric to reveal the span of her breasts, her honeysuckle skin underneath the torn muslin of her blouse.

"I will not tell you my name, right now, mistress" he warns her; she can feel his breath on her skin. "You may call me Master Drake."

And he is drawing her body toward him, and she does not resist. Does not resist when he pulls her onto his body, nor when he wraps his bearded mouth around the soft, pink skin of her nipple, pressing against her through the shredded filaments of her shirt. And her long saffron hair shrouds his wounded head, its honey silk tickling his cheeks and his ears.... his tongue and teeth and the pricking hairs on his face needle her nakedness, make her skin feel alive... her titties swell... against the push of his tongue against thin fabric and flesh... and her verdant eyes widen in the morning mist, framed by eyebrows light as the cardinal's red wing.

He holds her firmly, though she does not resist him, though her head is spinning. As he unfastens her cloak, lets it fall to the forest floor, as he rolls her over, climbs on top of her trembling body, peels away the fine shreds of her shirt... exposing her pale, white flesh... Heidi feels the crush of pine needles against her back, the crush of his mouth, slowly descending against her skin... his large hands stroking the contours of her body, her breasts, her neck, her slender waist. A tiny shuddering gasp escapes her lips, hangs, suspended in the air—a gasp of confusion... and delight... that settles into the sky, as his tongue moves down her stomach, lingers against her ligaments.

He is tugging on her breeches; they come sliding off her stallion legs... and she is shivering though she is not cold. She feels his mouth, like a clamp... the gristle of his beard against her softest parts. Her pin-cushion lips part into an "Oooo." And the long drags of her scent arouse him, excite him, the tastes of her sweet juice. The jarring harrow of being caught between her thighs as he sucks her.

And it is overwhelming, the sensations of pleasure that roll down her body, that unfurl in the hollows of her ribs, tumbling into her tummy, and she did not know it could feel like this. Did not know that a tongue could make her very fingertips shake with excitement. And everywhere around her is the smell of pine and lust.

But he is done with her too soon, is crawling up her body, shedding his garments, demanding recompense, his cock is in her face, rubbed along the cathedrals of her cheeks and brow, the slender slip of her nose, barreling against the bowstring of her ripe, red lips, parting them, separating the flesh, her teeth, until he is in her. She is frightened then, and her body tenses, her slender fingers curl, for he is not gentle and wields his cock like a weapon, seizing his pleasure from her throat. His thick thighs wrap around her head, her face... his knees nesting in the crush of her red hair. And he is pushing upon her, faster, and he is filling her mouth with his girth. Deeper and deeper... over and again. And she can hardly breathe.

And when he cums inside her mouth, it is like a revelation, the warm squirt of his sweetness splashing against her throat, and it makes her green eyes water to hear him, feel him exploding inside.

And when he is done he is gentle with her... smoothing her hair and draping smooth white shoulders in velveteen and fur. And she feels warm and safe. And as the sun begins to burn through the morning haze, she relents, tells him her story, of her miserly father, the price of her flesh... and of the decision to flee. He listens without speaking for some while, even as her words come to a gradual halt.

"So," he says at last "you feel that certain death in a northern forest is preferable to life

in a loveless marriage?"

She colors. "You wouldn't understand!"

"You're correct, young mistress," he says curtly, "I do not understand such foolishness."

"The people in my village," she begins, blushing deeper... "they say there are mages housed in these woods, druids and other keepers of knowledge..."

"And you seek to be like one of them, is that correct, mistress?" he asks her.

"Yes, Master..." she confesses, avoiding his gaze.

He is silent then for some time.

At last he turns to her, "It is true that there is wisdom of a sort to be gleaned from those who people this forest: cures for aches, potions to send you to sleep... rune readers who may try to speak to your dead. It is rubbish." There is a look of ferocity growing in his blue eyes, and Heidi is aware of it... "True lore will never be learned from the deeds of men; power and wisdom comes from the earth and the gods and the struggle of the self!"

He turns to her.

"Is this the knowledge that you seek? Tell me, quickly!"

Heidi pauses a moment; slowly nods her head.

He looks at her, stares at her; there is an intense moment of dreadful scrutiny.

"What are you?" he says at last. "There is something about you. I can tell. You are not wholly human-born."

Heidi blanches, bites her lip before answering. "My mother was a huldra." She says at last. "She died when I was a child."

Master Drake seems pleased by her answer, appraises her womanly body, the trill of her long hair in the morning breeze.

"That is why you thirst for the knowledge of the ancients" he says. It is not a question.

Master Drake turns his body toward her, has her massage the gentle bulge between his legs, finger the folds of his skin.

"Well Huldra-born, I have a proposition for you" he begins at last, "a test to determine your aptness as a pupil..."

Heidi waits.

"You asked for my name... the name of my father.... You must guess it..." he begins. "This will show me if you have what it takes to truly study the old customs."

He continues "Do you know what day this is, mistress?"

Heidi nods. It was the day of her binding. "It is the first night off Winternight, Master" she replies.

"It is indeed" he is pensive for a moment, staring off into the distant west, in the direction of the setting sun. "You will not be the only one of us charged with a task these Winternight, mistress" he says at last. "And I daresay my task will be more difficult than yours..." his voice trails off.

He concludes, brusquely, setting the terms with resolve "You will serve me, mistress—during the day-- as it pleases me and as my needs may demand... for the next three days. In the twilight I will leave you to return each dawn. If you have served me well you may ask me one question at the start of each evening, to keep your thoughts occupied throughout the night. You must guess my name by the third dawn... and if you can I will teach you great secrets..."

"Do you agree mistress" he asks her.

"What if my guess is wrong Master?"

"Then you had better come up with a better defense against the hiinsi" he tells her, before rolling her on her back and taking her round mouth once more.

He possesses her many times on that first day, stuffing himself down her throat... and into her virgin cunt... cradling her supine body in the crèche of fallen, harvest leaves. Moving her past the first moments of terror, until her body is shaking with pleasure; his strong hands grasping the pinch of her waist, pulling her on him and over him, again and again. Her small hands pressing down upon his body as her lithe figure rides him, her pulsing cunt gripping him, his fingers groping her breasts and her clit.

And as the sun rises overhead he leads her further into the woods, teaches her which berries are edible, which mushrooms to avoid, shows her how to make and mute a fire, to skin a squirrel for his supper, how to make him a soft bed of leaves and gorse. She is a deft learner who seeks to please, and she is responsive, and animated and it pleases him at times just to watch her, to see her in her blushing nakedness prepare his meals and serve him. To draw her to him when he needs her.

But as the soft night draws nearer, he grows more distant, pensive as the sun begins his great descent. At last he turns to her, his features shrouded in shadow.

"You have pleased me well today mistress. What is your question?"

Heidi pauses, considering before carefully phrasing her response.

"Master, it is known that the hiinsi are demon spawn, tamed only by the great works of man. Yet here in the wilderness where they are strongest, you tamed them with what appeared to be a fishwife's thread. You called it gleipnir. My question is: how did you come to possess the gleipnir that saved me from the hiinsi, Master?"

Master Drake's face is obscured, so Heidi cannot see the sparkle in his keen, blue eyes. Does not know yet, how she pleases him already, with her artless ways, her feather-light body, the expanse of her inquisitive mind...

"You have a good memory mistress" he begins. "Do you know what gleipnir is?"

Heidi shakes her head.

Master Drake clears his throat. "Gleipnir is rope that may only be wielded by its maker."

Heidi is listening.

Master Drake continues "To make gleipnnir you must weave together six impossible things...." He recites: "The sound of a cat's footfall, the roots of a mountain... the sinews of a bear and the spittle of a bird. The beard of a woman. The breath of a fish."

"And you, you gathered all of these things Master, and bound them together?" and there is wonder in her voice and in her eyes as he answers simply.

"Yes."

Her voice is low as she replies "It appears that I am not the only one not wholly human-born."

For an answer he rises, hoists his scabbard, his leather sling of supplies across his back, presses her mouth once, hard across his crotch, so that she may savor its strength and its smell before he releases her and disappears into the settling darkness.

Alone under the silver slip of the moon, Heidi retreats to the little camp he had made for her, careful to stay among the runes and incantations he had set for her protection. She burrows her nakedness into the deep fur of her cloak, shrouds herself in a luxury of leaves, and under a canopy of pine trees slowly succumbs to sleep... where she dreams of cock and of a man who steals the breath of fish.

She is roused shortly after midnight. There is a bite in the air... winter is surely on its way. He is there on top of her. She can barely make out the outline of his face. His hands are cold as he pulls her body from its slumber. His movements are jarring, and his need is great. He is tearing at her mouth with his tongue and teeth; his muzzle is prickly against her skin. His flesh is hard as it separates her legs, hard as it thrusts into the delicious warmth of her cunt... There is a chill in the air and on his breath and in the very tendons of his body that threatens to overpower her, that stiffens her nipples and the hairs on her neck. He cums inside her quickly, but he is not done, barely pauses in his urgency even as his pearly white seed comes spilling out of her trailing in wavy little lines down her legs. If anything, he is harder, driven by torments that cannot be seen, hoisting her on top of him, pushing her up and down, faster... harder... her breasts bumping together... the long strands of her hair begin to dampen from exertion and sweat pools along her neck and along the small of her back and along her thighs which straddle him, cradle his girth.... Plummet, at his insistence up and down...

And then in his hunger, he is pushing her onto her back, couching himself between her breasts and on her neck and in her mouth so that it is difficult to breathe, to see, to smell anything but his sex. He wraps his fingers in the tangle of her hair, the color of cinnamon, of paprika, of sunsets at sea... stills her head so that in the dim light he can see the tumult in her eyes as she struggles for gulps of air... as he cums again inside her... like an exorcism of demons, he is coating her throat with his thick, sour, cream, filling her mouth before he collapses at her feet.

When he wakes, it is mid-morning already. His body is sore with duress, but the cold that had numbed his body has largely left him... and he is hungry. He finds Heidi stooped over a small fire. She has prepared a light meal for him bathed and freshened herself in the river. He ignores the meal. This time he is gentle with her, feeding her his fingers to suck... Master Drake is lapping at her body, at her delta... reaching in his tongue to skirt her labia, to tickle her clitoris... to savor the sweet, musky scent of her pussy. He is fondling her breasts, teasing her nipples until they stand erect. And he is good at it. And she trembles in delight, her long, low moans escaping her body... as her legs wrap around him... as she cums and cums... as the day winds on.

And after his sex has been sated and his stomach has been fed, she rests him, massaging his sore muscles, caressing his back, running her light fingers through the curly waves of his dark hair. And when he is comfortable he takes her again.

12