Theon thought with dismay that he had chosen unwisely, yet again. But I dont have to keep her. When I'm done, I'll dump her back on young Seabottom. A little worse for wear, but he should count himself lucky that he will be bringing back any triumph at all. Especially at his tender age.

He had reached the village last, having had orchestrated the attack from atop the hill to the east, and the little village had been laid bare by the time he had reached it. It was a five minute canter to it, but enough time for the greedy reavers to scrounge every pot and pan, goose and grain; and of course one of the more expensive creature comforts that a man could carry away, a salt wife.

In his excitement to reach the ship, the Seabottom boy had bumped into him from the side, having lost his field of vision from the bundle over his shoulder. The boy had hastily thrown the woman over his shoulder in a haphazard fashion and was clutching her high on one calf, leaving the rest of her to dangle grotesquely over his back; arms dancing and hair swaying in time to his fast steps. The boy mumbled a quick, "M'lard", as an apology in his direction. In the scant time it took for Theon to track a few bounces of the woman's plump buttocks on the boy's bony shoulder as he made haste for the gangway, he was calling the boy back to him.

After he had divested the boy of his loot with a few sharp, mocking words, he had looked down at the woman's face as she lay unconscious in his cradled arms. The smooth, slightly lifted brow over shimmering eyelids, the rosebud mouth, pinky-mauve and slightly parted as if waiting for a kiss, lent her an air of guileless innocence. He should have known better, he thought grimly, as he looked down on her now and went about the necessary task of making her more pliable.

He frowned sightly as he pushed the woman down again and tried to pry her legs apart with his knee. How much more wrong could I have been? First with Asha and now this...villager. My sweet sister has cursed me my luck with women, may the gods bugger her. Still, instantaneously, an unbidden string of bad decisions he had recently made flew through his mind, enraging him further. No; I will not throw this one back to some impudent whelp. I will not give up my rights to any plunder, ill-gained or not. Like it or no, this feral little minx is going to be taught how to behave like a proper salt wife. If I have to break her down the hard way, I will. When he was very young, he had heard stories of old from Dagmar and his brothers where hardheaded women were lessoned with ropes and wooden bullies. But he had no taste for harming the weaker sex and hoped that it would not come to that. I will try it, if pushed; but if she insists on making this a battle to the death then the drowned god can have her, he thought as he ducked what would have been an eye-gouging. He threw his body forward to grab the woman's hand and bent it back; an angry smile of satisfaction flashing over his lips when she screamed.

Would that I had taken gold from the Seabottom lad. It was of course more highly sought than thralls and salt wives, but a scant glimpse of the village had shown that if any gold had been had here, it must've been a trifling amount. Theon looked down at his prize now with dismay and with a feeling of a growing cold fury spreading through him. Gold is so much easier. Easier than this! Gold grants you compliance. Over most anything. Just as the thought had passed through his mind, he yelped out in surprise and pain, a glancing blow having landed to his groin. Cool dismay instantly turned to a flame of anger, as he roughly grabbed her other arm and wrenched it back.

"Gold!" As if reading his mind, the woman yelled out the word in pain. It got his attention. She had been silently fighting underneath him, wriggling as intensely as a minnow trying to escape grasping fingers. She was fighting quietly in desperation, he knew, and had seemed wise enough to understand that any words that might be spoken were not going to deter him. His attention flickered on this proposal for hardly a second; all he had to do was look down at the clothes he had almost totally ripped from her to see that they were faded, stained. This was no lord or rich merchant's daughter.

He gave her a crooked smirk, "Do you take me for a fool? You have no gold to your name. You don't even have a name, now. Unless it's the name I give you." He yanked her hands to the side to make his point with her, and put his face down low next to hers. "You're mine. You'll answer to the name I give you, and you'll do as I tell you. Now."

She contemplated his words in terror and, absurdly, with some misplaced amusement. When she had come to, earlier in his cabin bed, he had been right there waiting with a cup of wine which she had drank down greedily. But instead of it making her mellow and sleepy like most wines did, it made her agitated and it accelerated her fear into anger. And now she regarded his face as it loomed above hers; the conceitedness in the slant of the eyes, the arrogance in the smile, and she made to smile herself, which relaxed his countenance some, until her spit hit him squarely in the eye. She felt her head snap hard to the right before she even registered the slap. Stars on a black field swam in her head.

She wasn't some ignorant villager like he thought, but she lacked the cogency in her state to make him understand. She was the daughter of Lord Grimshaw's Master of Coin, visiting her cousins for the summer, and it was their more practical garb she wore.

Not that this lout would care , she thought with disgust. He may not have known her by sight, but she knew him. Her father had been in attendance at the Winterfell feast for King Robert and he had taken her and her sisters along. She had picked Theon out that night, along with two other men, as being the only ones worthy of a second look. He was not nearly as comely or fair to look upon as the other two, both lordlings like him, but he had a ready smile and his eyes seemed to shine with mirth. Her father had pulled away one of her sisters before she had the time to complete a second dance with him. That made him even more interesting to her and by the end of the evening, she had developed a small fancy for him. The next day when they broke fast, her father had disparagingly mentioned something about his hostage status and the fact that he was an ironman, not from the north. But she was only half listening as she ate her porridge. In her thoughts, she was dancing with the hostage lordling in a soft and sparkly dress made for a princess, and he was whispering unthought of compliments and endearments in her ear.

Now, she was now considering the pattern of stars that this lording had slapped into her minds-eye and how they, not any pretty dancing skirts, swirled At first, she hardly registered that she was being flipped over by his strong hands.

If you want to act like a child, I'll treat you like a child, Theon said in a firm, barely controlled voice. She could hear the edge of excitement in his voice, making it go up half an octave; making him sound like an insolent boy more than a lord.

He leaned back, put her face-down across his knees and with two hard yanks, tore her dress down the middle until it slid off completely, exposing her pale skin. It seemed to glow by the light of the moon shining down through the porthole, in the gloomy cabin room. Blows rained down on her bare buttocks in a sudden storm of stings and she involuntarily yelled like a child and tried to reach back to protect herself. He easily flung her arms aside. The yelling seemed to excite him into ramping up the blows, and they came harder and faster, until a loud wail was wrenched from her. He sat up, sated and panting, and looked down on what he had wrought, still holding her firmly down to his lap. He didn't think it possible for his cock to become harder than it was before, but this had done it. Gods knew, he had had his share of spankings growing up, and not soft ones like what he had given the girl, but ones that had him unable to sit for days. The only thing they did was make me daydream about pushing Helya and her wooden paddle into a pot of pitch. Who knew they were the instrument of another more decidedly wicked purpose?

He had never taken a girl across his knee before and he was pleasantly surprised by the results. It seemed to have taken some of the fight out of the wench. He pushed her not ungently off his lap, so that she was more exposed to his view. The curves of her buttocks were dark pink around her pale body and irresistible. He ran his hands up her thighs and over her rounded cheeks. The girl only made a halfhearted effort to crawl away from him. A faint guffaw passed from his crooked smile. He caressed her again in the same way but this time took hold of her warmed cheeks a bit more roughly and squeezed. The girl made a little moan and he felt himself yet again grow harder and was even more aware of the pain in his cock, as it throbbed for want of being touched. Now is the time to remedy that.

He slid deep between her legs , pulling them wide apart and when he slid his fingers into her, she bucked but he held her tightly, his smile spreading wide into a lascivious grin. She was as wet as the sea. The randy bitch has wanted me from the start. She just put on a show because she didn't want to seem the harlot that she actually is. I've never stroked a woman half as wet or willing as this one. I will keep her to wife. Even if I have to tie her up sixteen hours a day, it will be worth the eight hours that she warms my bed. His straining erection came within a hairs breadth now of poking her and he fleetingly thought that maybe he would not be able to hold his excitement upon touching her.

He was readying himself to stab inside her with his turgid cock, which had all but turned purple by now, when he was seized with the need to turn her over. He wanted to enter her from the front. He wanted her to know who her new master was. When he rolled her over, he saw that her face was as pink as her bum. More from anger and embarrassment than from shame, he thought wryly. She turned her head to the side when he came in for a kiss.

"You don't need to play the shy maid with me," he said in a low, intimate voice, " You are no different than me."He meant to be earnest, but it came out like a taunt. He turned her head back to face him and enunciated with absolute hash clarity, "I am going to fuck you now." Her eyes fluttered closed and he barked, "Look at me." He wanted to sound harsh, stern; but he heard the edge of pleading on his command. Just like how it always crept into his demands to women. No matter how he tried to excise it, it would crawl back unbidden into his tone; his asking to be loved back.

The woman locked her eyes to his and he held them there as he pushed his cock into her, pushing her wide open until she winced and gasped, a faint smile coming to his lips again as he started to thrust inside her.

It was over quicker than he had liked. His need was too great and he fucked her hard; painfully squeezing her to him as he rammed into her, slamming her down onto his hard cock, the sound of his body slapping against hers and making music with the sounds of the large waves that lapped at the ships hull. As his climax built, his grunts became louder and louder, until the he came with such a force that he was hardly aware that he had bit hard into her shoulder as the waves of his pleasure ripped through him and the milk of his loins spurt hotly inside her cunt.

He lied panting and shaking over her, his breath hot in her ear. Next time will be better, he thought. In less than an hour I'll have her screaming my name, and I'll have no mercy on her. I'll fuck her to unconsciousness and still keep fucking her until she's revived and ready to suck my cock. The thought of painting her pretty little mouth with his seed was already making his cock twinge somewhat painfully.