Viking Cuck Bi Goddess Worship

I don’t know what came over me when I wrote this story. I assure you my protagonist is hornier, and maybe even more confused, than I was. But hey, any story with Vikings can’t be all bad. 


“Are you sure?” I asked again nervously. Alyssa smiled and nodded.

“Really, truly, one hundred percent sure?” 

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “For the millionth time, Trent, yes, I’m sure. I’m sure I want to do this. I’m sure I want to make you happy. I love you, you know.”

It was my turn to sigh. “I do know,” I said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “For the life of me, I don’t know why, but I know you love me. I love you, too. So much.” 

It was the truth. Alyssa was beautiful. And smart. And funny. So open and at ease with everyone. And completely uninhibited. In short, she was the 180-degree opposite of me. She also wasn’t involved in “the business”—the business being Hollywood. No, she had a nice normal job as a medical librarian, with no interest in whose pilot had been picked up or what deal had been offered to whom and for what. She was perfect, and too good for me in every way, and I had to pinch myself daily to assure myself that she wasn’t a figment of my overactive imagination. 

At least my imagination paid my bills. I was head writer on the most successful sci-fi show on tv . . . well, streaming . . . but close enough. Alyssa and I had met when she was dragged along by her friend to a “con.” At a meet-and-greet following the panel discussion for my show, she had waited patiently while her friend got autographs and photos with the assembled cast and even me, a humble writer. She smiled and winked at me as her friend gushed over certain plot points, then gently steered her away, finally allowing the next person in line to reach me. I’m certain she didn’t give me a second thought, but I was immediately and irredeemably smitten. I nodded politely and shook hundreds of hands after Alyssa and her friend departed, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind. 

When I was finally released from my obligations, I rushed around the convention center trying to find her. Ordinarily, I would have just let it go, assuming that even if I could track her down, such a gorgeous woman wouldn’t want anything to do with a weirdo like me. Ordinarily, I would have just dragged myself back to my dreary apartment and jerked myself raw thinking about what it would be like to have a woman like that under me, or bent over in front of me, or on my face. But something impelled me to search for her, and when I did find her, standing in line for a Vitamin B12-infused, kale smoothie (it is L.A. after all) something even impelled me to talk to her and ask her out. And then something—maybe even the same rift in the universe that had led me to pursue her—impelled her to say, “Yes.” 

Over the past eighteen months, Alyssa had continued to say yes. Yes to a second date. Yes to sleeping with me. Yes to being my girlfriend. Yes even to the question that had led us to the very point in time where my story begins:  “Alyssa, will you help me fulfill my deepest, kinkiest sexual fantasy?”


We pulled into the lot of a nondescript brick building in The Valley. “Last chance,” I said, only half jokingly. If Alyssa backed out, it would allow me to back out as well, without losing face. Because as much as I wanted . . . needed . . . craved what was about to happen, I was also terrified of it. 

“No way,” she said, punching me lightly in the arm. “This is what you want, big fella. Let’s go see what kind of freak you really are.”

I hadn’t yet told Alyssa exactly what kind of freak I really was. I did let her know that I didn’t want to see her getting hurt or degraded in any way, and that I had found someone who would help us fulfill my fantasies safely. After that assurance, she seemed content to let whatever happened happen, no questions asked. Once again, I was astounded by her level of trust in me. How on earth had I found this woman?

The interior of the building was cool after the blazing summer heat of The Valley nearly bowled us over in the parking lot. Behind the desk, a perfectly ordinary young woman greeted us with a cheery, if clichéd, “Hot enough for you?”

It was hard to believe that just beyond the desk lay one of the most infamous spots in L.A. For years, I had heard whispers about this mythical place, started when a few former film crew members, tired of rising before dawn and working for whiny, imperious directors while wrangling vapid, entitled actors, decided to strike out on their own. Now, instead of taking orders, they often gave them to their kinkster clients—for a hefty fee, of course.

Not that every one of their clients desired to be a sub, of course. Me . . . yes. It’s what I wanted more than anything, combined with a heaping dose of cuckolding, sprinkled with a dash of pseudo-Norse mythology on top for good measure.

But some of their clients wanted help with gentler, if not more mundane, fantasies. I’d heard all about the famous, macho action hero who wanted to fuck in midair while dressed as a fairy—a literal fairy, with sparkly wings and everything. Another A-lister supposedly wanted to be covered in gold, à la Goldfinger, before she got railed by a succession of Bond-villain look-alikes. And then there was the aging, portly, somewhat-past-his-prime star who wanted to dress like Santa and screw his way through an entire workshop of sex-toy-making elves. With their backgrounds in stunts, makeup, costume design, and a host of other professions, the proprietors of Hollywood’s “worst-kept-secret” sex studio were always in demand and never in danger of going out of business. 

And there I was, standing with Alyssa by my side, after finally finding the balls to make the arrangements, getting ready to fork over an astronomical amount of money to get my freak on. Suddenly I felt a sharp elbow to my ribs. “Trent,” Alyssa said sharply, “pay attention. Aurora was asking you a question.”

“Oh, sorry.” I felt myself blush. “You were saying . . .”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Aurora the receptionist said. “Lots of people’s minds wander when they get here. I was just asking if you wanted to add on the film package for an additional $2,750. You get a high-quality, digital memory of today’s experience and our complete assurance that what we give you is the only copy that exists. Would you be interested?”

I thought about what this was already costing me. If I spent any more, I’d have to put one of my kidneys on the black market. “No, that’s okay. Just the memories will be enough.”

“Trent,” I heard Alyssa saying. “I know how much this means to you. It might be kind of fun to watch it again . . . together.” She winked. “C’mon. Let me get it . . . as a present to you. What do you say?” She was already reaching inside her bag for her wallet.

“I say . . . I say thanks,” I said finally. There was no way I deserved this woman. 

“Super-cool girlfriend,” Aurora said as she ran Alyssa’s card. “Well, now you’re all set.” 

She looked at the file she had on us. “Alyssa, Trent has requested a special costume and some makeup and hairstyling for you, so if you would follow me, I’ll get you back to the artists. You wait here, Trent, and I’ll send Jan out for you.” Alyssa gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and then they were off. As they walked away, I heard Aurora say, “You’re sooo gorgeous. Are you an actress?” Although I didn’t hear Alyssa’s response, I heard Aurora say, “Are you sure? I’m sure I’ve seen you in something . . .” I chuckled and shook my head. It wasn’t the first time Alyssa had gotten that. In a town filled with people aching to be “discovered,” my girlfriend was the only woman I knew who had actually turned down casting agents when they approached her at Whole Foods.

With Alyssa gone and not knowing what else to do, I sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the lobby to wait. My heart began to race and my stomach churned. Thankfully it wasn’t long before I heard a deep, slightly-accented voice growl:  “Get over here, Cuck. Now.”


The Jan I had waited for—the Jan of the imposing growl—was Jan Lindqvist, legendary stuntman, and six-foot-five inches of pure Scandanavian muscle. Per my request, he was dressed as a Viking warrior, complete with tattoos, elaborately braided hair, and leather pants and boots. My fantasy began the second Jan the Viking—Jan my Dom—summoned me. 

Jan took me roughly by the arm and led me back to a room lined with whips, crops, collars, and other BDSM accoutrements. “On your knees.” Jan forced me down before him, and snapped a collar around my neck. “Strip,” he commanded, and I quickly got out of my clothes before settling on my knees before him again. “You are mine now, and so is your girlfriend, is that clear?” I nodded. “You will address me as ‘My Jarl,’ and give me your complete obedience. Understood?”

He grabbed my cock, which was already starting to swell at my humiliation, and snarled, “You are not allowed to have an erection, and you are absolutely forbidden to cum until I tell you that you may.” He took a contraption down from the wall behind him and locked it around my junk. “That’s all you’ve got, huh?” I swallowed and nodded. “Yes,” I managed to say. 

“Yes, My Jarl,” he corrected, giving me a slap. “Even though you’re not much of a man, if you get hard, you will experience excruciating pain, although I guess that’s what you get off on, huh, Cuck?” I just nodded, then winced. I was getting incredibly hot at the way Jan—correction, My Jarl—was talking to me, and my dick was straining against the metal restricting its growth. My sac was also getting pulled and squeezed, and though I was scared by the sensation, I was unquestionably excited, too. As I writhed, somewhere between heaven and hell, My Jarl strapped a harness to me, smacked me across the face, and said “Follow me, Cuck.” Though I struggled to my feet, I was only too happy to comply. 

My Jarl led me by my leash onto a large set, expertly styled as a Viking longhouse. In the center was a platform adorned with a sacrificial altar. He took a seat on a throne in front of the platform and yanked me down to sit between his muscular legs. I heard him groan and was tempted to turn around, but I managed to resist the urge, especially after My Jarl slapped the back of my head and yanked my leash. “Eyes front.”  

It quickly became clear what was happening behind me anyway. My Jarl had freed his enormous cock from his leather pants, and when he leaned forward, his one-eyed beast prodded against my neck. I had long dreamed of being dominated by a man whose dick dwarfed mine, and the metal cage on my own pathetic organ pinched as I tried in vain to obey him—tried in vain not to get hard.

It might have been minutes we sat there, my Viking Dom and me; it might have been hours. The pleasure of his pulsing cock against my neck, the pain of my own being strangled by his torture device—the two competing stimuli intermingled until I almost couldn’t separate them. I had nearly forgotten about Alyssa. And then four beautiful women led her into the room. 

I gasped and was immediately punished when My Jarl pulled my leash. “Silence.”

I gazed in wonder at Alyssa’s transformation. Already the most striking woman I knew, she had been made into something truly ethereal—the very vision of a Viking goddess. Her hair was braided and pinned back, and around her head she wore a circlet of flowers. She was dressed in a filmy white gown which clung to her figure, and her feet were bare. She stood, flanked by the maidens, waiting for My Jarl’s approval. Finally he said, “The Offering is acceptable.”


At his pronouncement, Alyssa’s attendants, themselves dressed in sheer white gowns, led her to the altar. They laid her down carefully on the stone slab, then two of them spread her legs while the others held open her arms. “Secure the Offering,” My Jarl commanded.

The women at her feet secured them with leather straps attached to rings at the foot of the altar. The women holding her arms placed leather cuffs on her wrists and bound them to leather cords attached to the altar’s base. Though she was captive, the bindings on her arms allowed for considerable movement. The restraints on her ankles bound her tightly to the table, however. 

“Prepare the Offering,” My Jarl intoned. At his instruction, one of the women raised Alyssa’s skirts, folding them above her waist and exposing her from the waist down. “Very good,” My Jarl breathed, and I felt his prick grow against my neck. “But she must be bare. Pure. Virginal.”

Nodding, a woman in white picked up a bowl from beneath the slab while another produced a straight razor. While one woman brushed foam all over Alyssa’s mound, the other rubbed the razor against a leather strop. Then she began to shave. With just a few practiced strokes, my girlfriend’s pussy was bare, and I was sure blood flow had been cut off to my cock. It was nothing short of bliss.

Another of the women produced a towel and removed the excess foam. Even from my vantage point I could see the deep pink of Alyssa’s labia, the perfect hood of her clit. I thought I might pass out from sheer desire for her when My Jarl gave another command:  “Pleasure the Offering.”

At that, the women raised Alyssa from the altar and slipped her arms out of her dress. “Fuck,” I heard My Jarl whisper when he saw her perfect breasts. My dick ached exquisitely in its confines. 

One of the maidens lowered Alyssa back to the table and began kissing her on the lips. Two of the others played with her breasts, kneading them with their fingers and making circles with their tongues until they reached her sensitive nipples, which they flicked and bit with evident relish. The final maiden knelt between her legs and fingered her, sliding first one, then two, then three, then all four fingers into her increasingly slick cunt while working her clit with her other hand. Alyssa began to moan, and it wasn’t long before she came from all of the stimulation, her back arching, legs shaking, pussy clenching as she rode the euphoric wave. I could feel My Jarl’s cock weeping pre-cum into my hair, so voluminous it dripped down the back of my neck. Never had I felt so small. Never had I felt so alive.

“Let the ceremony begin,” My Jarl pronounced. The maidens presented him with a heavy wooden box, carved with runes. He opened it and removed an intricately carved ivory dildo, thick as a woman’s wrist, and easily ten inches long. “Bring me a taste.”

Bowing, one of the women took the dildo from him and returned to Alyssa. On its thick, white head, she caught some of the juice flowing from Alyssa’s pussy, then turned and presented it to My Jarl. Raising it to his lips, he flicked out his tongue and tasted it. He smiled. “She is ready.”

The maidens resumed their positions around Alyssa’s body. Three of them began kissing and fondling her again while the fourth knelt before her and placed he tip of the dildo against her quivering slit. For a moment, I feared I was breaking my promise—there was no way she was going to be able to take that mammoth intruder without getting hurt—and I forgot where I was. I lunged forward to protect her. Instantly, I was corrected by My Jarl. “Just because you will never give her something that substantial doesn’t mean she can’t accept it.”

I watched at first with horror and then fascination as the maiden slowly began to breach Alyssa’s cunt with the dildo. While the fingers of one hand gently massaged her clit, she used the other to carefully slide the ersatz cock into my girlfriend’s remarkably pliant hole. Alyssa began to moan again as the inches of ivory slowly disappeared inside of her, and her other attendants kept up their ministrations to her mouth and breasts. When all ten inches had been sunk into her, the maiden at her feet slowly reversed the process, sliding the dildo out until just the head remained inside. She continued fucking her with the enormous dick until Alyssa came hard again, juice flowing out from around the ivory, and writhing as much as her restraints allowed.

“The gods are pleased,” My Jarl announced. “Let the Offering take her rest.” The maidens carefully lifted an exhausted Alyssa from the altar and re-covered her breasts and lowered her skirts. Then they knelt beside her and waited.

“It is almost time for me to make the ultimate gift to Freya,” My Jarl said. He yanked at my leash and turned me toward him. For the first time, I came head to head with his massive, dripping cock. My little dick was almost numb from all the pain, and my balls were in agony, but I was overjoyed. I knew what came next, and I couldn’t wait. “But first, you must make your own sacrifice, Cuck.” He thrust his prick into my gaping mouth and began roughly fucking my face, sliding his rigid, veiny rod down my throat, making me gag with ecstasy. His huge balls slammed against my chin, and I thought he might unload down my thirsty gullet when he stopped just in time. “That was better than I thought you could do,” he whispered harshly, “but what I really want is your woman.” He pushed me aside, then moved to tower over Alyssa

One of the women bowed and presented him with a bowl full of a red, viscous fluid resembling blood. Movie prop, I thought, but it didn’t make it any less erotic and taboo. Taking it from her, he smeared some first on his cheeks, then plunged his cock into the bowl. His prick dripped red as he knelt on the altar above Alyssa and painted stripes on her cheeks as well. He tore her dress from her in one deft motion and slid his dick between her breasts, marking them too with red. For such a large man, he was graceful as he leapt down from the slab and motioned for the maidens to help him raise it to waist height. “O Freya! Goddess of Love, Goddess of Lust, accept our offering to you tonight!” My Jarl called out as he plunged his giant, throbbing cock into Alyssa’s yearning cunt. His thrusts were hard and frantic, but he kept a thumb on her still-engorged clitoris, and I knew her moans weren’t just for show. He was making her cum, and cum hard as he emptied himself into her. I watched, my sad little organ prickling against the hard iron encasing it, as her juices mixed with his seed and the blood-like paint and began dripping to the floor beneath them. “The goddess is well-pleased,” he said as he pulled out of Alyssa. He motioned for the attendants to lower the stone slab. “The Offering has served Freya well.”

“Let the final part of the ceremony commence,” he said, turning to me. “Stand, Cuck.”

“Yes, My Jarl,” I said as I rose to my feet. He bent and released my genitals from their prison, and I nearly fainted as blood surged to my cock and balls. “The Offering needs to be cleansed again,” he said, pushing me back to my knees in front of the altar where Alyssa lay, still bound. 

“When the cuck has cleansed her of my seed, the gods will smile upon him,” he announced. I eagerly began my task, my dick growing harder with each lick I took, my arousal growing as I drank in the virile masculinity of My Jarl’s abundant spunk mixed with Alyssa’s sweet, feminine, and very familiar juice. As I worked, My Jarl bent and murmured low in my ear, “You’ll know you’re finished when she cums again.” Alyssa’s clit had already begun to pulse wildly against my tongue. “And you have my permission to cum now, too.”

That was all the encouragement I needed.


The first few minutes of the drive home passed in silence. “That was . . .” Alyssa began at the same time I tried to say, “Look, Alyssa, I’m . . .” We both smiled. “You go,” I said. 

“That was . . . intense,” she said finally. 

“Oh, God, I know. I’m so sorry.” The words came tumbling out. “I’m sorry I put you through that. You’re so amazing, and I’m . . . well, I’m me. Sick, pathetic, twisted me. You must be so upset right now. I mean, I told you I was deviant, but there’s no way you could have imagined just how deviant. I understand if you want to move out and never see me again.”

“Trent,” she said softly, laying her hand on my thigh. “I told you I was up for anything. When they were doing my hair and makeup, I signed about million consent forms agreeing to everything that happened tonight.”

“You did?”

“Of course. I even had a safe word in case it all got too overwhelming.”

“That makes sense,” I said lamely. That was probably all in the fine print of my own contract that I hadn’t bothered to read.

“I’ll admit that Viking Cuck Bi Goddess Worship wasn’t the first thing that sprang to mind when you told me you had a fantasy you wanted to explore, but I don’t think you’re a deviant, or sick, or a weirdo or anything. I think you have a very, um, specific kink, and I’m so touched that you felt comfortable enough to share it with me.” She continued:  “I mean, that was really hot. Part of what gets you off is seeing me receive pleasure. That’s an amazing gift. And, who wouldn’t want to be worshiped like a goddess? I had four women and two men servicing me tonight. They all brought me to orgasm, but no one as hard as you.”


“By the gods,” she said, holding up her hand in a mock oath. She winked.

And for the umpteenth time I looked at her and thought, Where did I find this woman?