It's a Long Boat Ride Home Part I (v1.4)

Tags: Male Raider/Female Villager, rape, consolation

Requested by an anon; a viking pillage and rape story. There was also suggestion that the viking not really want to be part of it, so it’s not especially brutal, and the characters aren’t really vikings. The setting is fantasy, just with not a lot of magic I suppose. In the end I hit close to 4000 words which is how long my stories usually go and I decided I wanted to do a second part rather than just wrapping it up where I did.



The boats on the horizon were the tallest that Helena had ever seen. Through the fog where they slid out on the water they made her think of the enormous, foul-natured swans that came to the ponds and fields in warmer weather.

"Whose are they?" she asked her friend Edith, whose family's farm neighbored on hers.

"They're so big," Edith said uncertainly, "They must be trade ships, full of cargo. I can’t see why else anyone would make one so big. Maybe ships of explorers! Wouldn't that be exciting?"

Edith looked east at the ports where the men around their tiny fishing boats were looking out at the beastly newcomers. They looked frightened, judging by the way they were all rushing to shore.


Theodor was on the landing team, not one of the slaves rowing beneath the deck. He had a sword on his back and butterflies in his stomach. The fog was too thick for him to see the people on the land, but he saw shapes that had to be houses. They were wooden and primitive to his eyes, covered by woven grasses. Combustible.

At his side, Randell appeared. He was excited like they all were. "Are you going to pick one this time?"

"I'd rather not," Theodor huffed. It annoyed him endlessly that his peers insisted he prove himself with kidnapping. One or two of them usually took a girl back on the boat with them to sell her off somewhere when they were done fucking her. You weren't a man if you didn't do that at least occasionally, they insisted. Theodor had never bothered--the time others spent hunting for farm girls with big tits he used to liberate precious metals, tools, and books from homes. They sold well in the right markets, especially the books. Sometimes he kept those for himself even.

"You're such a bleeding heart pussy," Randell said, and he spat on the shield Theodor held in his left hand, right in the eye of the bear shaped in the metal. The two men were exactly the same height--tall. Blonde, blue eyed, they locked angry gazes.

Theodor's other hand gripped the side of the boat so hard that his hand almost splintered the wood. He'd do it, if only to shut up men like Randell.


The boat met land. The archers rained fire from their posts up on the sails, their six foot bows let their flaming arrows sail to farthest edges of the town to begin stirring panic. Little dots in the distance, farmers, fled higher into the hills.

Theodor, Halli, and Niko led the charge on foot, and together they cut down everyone on the pier. There were no warriors in this town. At best they had hunters and fishermen. A man tried to hit Theodor with a rake at one point, but he brushed it off with his shield and impaled the man. These things were casual, common, simple. A way of life. Part of a job.

He looked for a girl. By now they were all hiding or fleeing--he saw a gaggle of them far off, their coats and skirts billowing out behind them. He sighed and walked farther up the hillside, and picked a house for the carvings in the wooden door. Bears, like his shield. So he kicked the door down and with the luck of the bears he found his prize.

There was a shelf with three books. Three! His eyes lingered on them longingly, but he knew that this time it would be better to take the girl cowering and crying in the corner.

He looked at her, reluctantly, curled in a ball. Barefoot. Covering her brown-haired head with hands, as if that could protect her. Looking back at him with bright eyes the color of the grass outside.


He was terror in metal armor and black bear furs. The dark clothes contrasted his white blonde hair, and at first Helena thought that perhaps he was some kind of ghost come from Hell to claim her town, though she dismissed this. Taller than anyone Helena had seen, more muscular than she knew any man could be, he made her feel tiny.


"You're coming with me," he told her with a sigh, and wasn't surprised when she only stared at him with no sign of understanding. Most places they raided didn't understand his tongue. She twitched and flinched and whimpered as he got closer, and only lashed out when he put his shield on his back and lifted her up with one arm to throw her over his shoulder. She kicked and pounded fists on his mail armor feebly, but only the shrieking in his ear bothered Theodor when he left her house.

Someone from his ship hollered at him from in front of a collapsed, burning building across the road. The heat was overwhelming against Theodor’s face but he welcomed it. A fire was a sign of a job well done. He walked through the main street, through bodies and blood, back to the ship. They welcomed him home and complimented him on his catch.


Helena couldn't understand the men. They threw her in a room of the boat and slammed the door behind her, and for a moment she was alone. And she was alive. She sat on the floor because her legs wouldn't support her and rocked back and forth, holding herself in the room.

It was claustrophobic. A sliver thin wooden bed took up half the room. The other half was floor space and a large wooden trunk. She opened it, hoping it would contain her salvation, but it was only full of books in a language she couldn't read. Not that she read her own language well. She slammed the trunk shut with all the force she could muster and sobbed weakly.

Outside the door, men were arguing. Farther on, beyond the immediate shouting, she heard jubilation. It made her sick.

The door opened and she jumped back, landing on the bed, trying to crawl into the corner. The tall blond man who had stolen her from her home was looking at her with forced neutrality while a few other men stood on tiptoes to steal glimpses of Helena over his shoulder.

The men exchanged words. Helena knew enough of peer pressure to know it when she saw it. Then he was grabbing her, yanking her up and towards him by one of her wrists, pulling her close against him. Someone else reached for her, but the man who was gripping her shoved him back. They spoke, they looked at her and pointed, and she understood that she was being judged, appraised. They spoke as if she were an object. Her kidnapper was the most quiet of them all, his words slow and careful.

She recognized his tone as quiet and angry. He was upset at the men who were crowding around, but he was trying to subdue it. The rest of them jabbered fast, cracking jokes and laughing at each other, clapping hands on each others backs  even though most of them were still wearing bloody armor. They were standing together laughing like they hadn’t just murdered half the people that Helena knew.


"But look at us wasting your time talking," Randell said, spreading his arms in a shrug. "I'm sure you were wanting to break her in."

The other men thought that Randell was being nice, letting Theodor go so that he could conduct his business, but Theodor himself saw it for the challenge that it was. The girl didn't look like she understood any of what was happening, except that she would never be going back to her town and that there was no town to go back to. The smell of smoke had reached them.

Theodor took her back into his cabin. He was still a young man, but he'd been on enough raids and had amassed enough wealth that he was able to maintain a room all to himself. It was one thing of many he stood to lose if they saw him as less of a man. Beyond that, he could lose the right to be brought along on raids at all. He sat the girl down on his bed.

With the door shut behind him, he leaned back against it and listened. He heard several men leave. He heard Randell breathing out there--a distinct sound ever since his nose had been broken during a feast-fight a few years back and it had healed poorly.

The girl sniffled louder. She asked him a question. Plaintive, begging, miserable. They both knew he couldn't answer, but his look of defeat calmed the girl enough that she stopped sobbing.

Theodor pointed to his chest. "Theodor," he said softly. She deserved to know his name.

"Theodor," she repeated, pointing at him also. She indicated herself next. "Helena."

"Helena," he said, nodding. That was a name where he was from also. They shared another long look. Theodor already knew he wouldn't be able to sell her now. Like a child bringing home a feral puppy to train, he knew that he could never live with himself if he abandoned her. She was his. He owned a few slaves--brown-haired, green-eyed folk like Helena--on his land at home to maintain his property when he was away, but they were all men and they had all been born slaves and their parents and parents’ parents had been born slaves. They had had nothing to begin with, but with Helena he was certain the adjustment would be awful.

Theodor could still hear Randall, the sick fuck. He'd tell everyone if Theodor didn't have his way with the girl, so he took a few heavy steps toward Helena and sat next to her on the small bed. She scooted as far from him as she could, and watched him hang his sword and shield on the wall and take off his armor. He made a point of dropping his chain shirt heavily to the floor so it would make the most noise.

Helena hid her eyes when he pulled off his shirt and stood to kick off his boots and unbuckle his belt. Her breathing sped up again as it became obvious what he intended. She screamed when he pulled her to her feet again, and Theodor felt sick turning her around and pulling her dress over her head. Being a poor peasant girl she had nothing on underneath.

"Theodor," she pleaded once, softly.

"Forgive me," he whispered so that the men outside wouldn’t hear her.


She folded her arms in front of her breasts and kept her thighs pinned together. It didn’t do any good and she knew that. But Helena saw in his eyes that he didn't want this either--not that it made what he seemed intent on doing okay. She didn’t even think that he wanted to make her cry. "Please don't hurt me," she whispered.


Theodor touched her cheek (she flinched) and pushed her hair from her eyes, guiding her back to his bed by putting his other hand on her shoulder. He tried to be gentle with her, but she screamed again, and he heard Randell chuckle. One of his hands wrapped around her back, the other scooped up her legs.

Helena punched him, but Theodor couldn’t even feel it. Outside he heard more footsteps gathering outside the door. More men who wanted to hear him hurt the girl. They wanted to hear him tear into her so they could imagine it was them fucking her later tonight.

He braced Helena’s back against the door to ensure it would stay closed, pressed his hips against hers to keep her there.

Uncontrollable trembles made her rattle, but Theodor's hands were steady. One was holding her right thigh firmly, the other ran over her. Helena was slender, better suited for housework than field work in the man’s opinion.


She looked down at her breasts, wondering if they had been the only reason she was still alive. Other girls her age had always been jealous of her body and the boys her age had always sought her affections.

Helena’s breasts hadn't escaped Theodor's gaze either, and his hands played over them while her catatonic gaze aimed down at his hands. He leaned in closer to her, struggling to attain a proper erection. So much of their skin was touching now. She smelled him--blood and dirt and sweat. And with his hands passing down her sides and him repositioning her, she soon felt him press the shaft of his penis against her vulva.

Helena had known it would come to this from the moment he had kicked down her door, but a shuddering wail issued from her lips.


"Shh," Theodor told her in what he hoped was a comforting tone. He kissed her forehead but she twisted her head away from him. He couldn’t blame her. After a few moments of silence, he rocked his hips back and pushed into her slowly as she cried out with pain. It  added another layer of guilt to him to learn she was a virgin, but she quieted until she was only breathing heavily, and Theodor kissed every tear away from the corners of her miserable eyes.

He'd never been with a virgin before. He'd had young women from his village as a boy but since then he had almost exclusively favored shield maidens because they never wanted anything that he didn't want. He reminded himself to be gentle with Helena--she was no shield maiden.

He was slow. He had to be when she was so tight, and so tense that she was squeezing him in a slippery death grip. Theodor panted and shut his eyes, he squeezed the shivering girl and picked up the pace with her--it was a building need in him. The longer he spent inside of her, the harder he wished he could go.

When he opened his eyes again, she looked back. "Forgive me, Helena," he whispered again.

He moved without much thought, powered by instinct and lack of any other option. He was by-the-book with her, unadventurous with his motions, and together his grunts and thrusts and her whimpers and cries made enough sound with the groaning door that Randell would have to be satisfied. Theodor just wished that he and Helena could have been as well.

With his final, heavy thrust he came inside of her and let his head fall forward to bump into the door. His breath ruffled Helena’s hair and he gradually relaxed his hands to let go of the girl. As soon as he let her stand, she darted back to the bed, away from the door, and curled up in the corner facing away from him.

He handed her a spare blanket roll from under the bed, and she wrapped it around herself until Theodor could see none of her skin, only the fabric. Theodor, still naked and flushed with unpleasant and dirty excitement, opened the door of his cabin to applause from almost every man on the ship who wasn't a slave. Their attempts to infuriate him had worked excellently.

"Fuck off, all of you," he snarled. "I fucked the girl. You all know I like to fuck girls, you've always known that. Now you all: fuck off."

He slammed the door and sat back down next to Helena. "I'm sorry," he said, and put his head in his hands.

If only that could have been the end of it. There was one more knock on the door and he flung it open, but by then whoever had knocked was gone, and they had left an unused slave collar on the floor in front of the door. Theodor picked it up--better to contemplate his options in private than stand in the open doorway with his cock hanging out.

The collar was plain metal. Strong, with no edges that could be too uncomfortable, and not too heavy. It was average, standard. The slave men who lived below decks to row the boat wore collars like this one that identified the individual men to whom they belonged. If he put his name on it and put it on Helena, she would be his, legally. He would be responsible for her well-being but ultimately he would retain rights over her body unless he sold her or freed her (but that wasn’t really an option, it simply wasn’t done). Other men would also be expected to respect his property and leave her alone. If he didn’t put the collar on her and he let her leave his room, she would be fair game for anyone who decided they did want to keep her.

He couldn’t give her up, and pulled the knife in his boot out to etch his name into the softer metal of the collar. After a moment he added her name to it as well. “Helena,” he said softly to get her attention.

She made a little grunt to acknowledge him but wouldn’t move. He pried her away from the corner as best he could without hurting her, and after she wrestled him a bit, he was able to secure the collar around her neck. She pulled it off immediately, obviously not understanding that it was there for her protection.


Helena turned and threw it at him. Collars were for animals. She was not an animal, and she refused to wear it. He pulled her to face him, and no matter how many punches she threw he didn’t seem to feel them at all.

“I’m too tired,” she muttered finally, justifying to herself how she had given up. He leaned forward and took the collar from where it had landed on the floor. “So just, say whatever. I don’t care, I don’t understand you.”

“Helena,” he said, and indicated the collar. She followed his finger and saw the writing. He pointed to the outside of the collar now and she saw a different word. He ran his finger along it and sounded it out. “Theodor.”

“I don’t care about the names,” she said, shaking her head so he’d get it. “I won’t wear it.”

He ignored her words, and pointed to the door, to where all the other killers had been. She lifted a hand and drew her finger across her throat. Theodor nodded, then held up the collar and shook his head no.

She got the picture, and let him put it on the next time he tried. If he meant for her to stay alive--and Helena already did have reason to believe that he did--she would do what she had to to keep herself in one piece as well. She needed him to keep her alive now, as he had kept her alive by carrying her from her village. He seemed to not want to torment her, so she thought she would survive in decent enough condition. There were no high hopes on her mind, and the future was black because any life she had ever imagined for herself in her town was no longer possible. She was trapped utterly in the present.

She also needed consoling and reassurance. Her world had fallen apart.

Then they were quiet together, both consumed with thought for a long time where they sat.

She unwrapped herself enough to toss some of of the blanket over him. He'd kidnapped her and destroyed her home. He'd raped her. But she was alive, and that was only because of him. "Theodor," she said his name softly to get his attention. She wanted him on her side. Needed him to be her friend instead of an antagonist. She wanted to get along with him, and hoped that he was a good enough person that she would be able to rewrite her memory and think of the rape as sex.

He accepted the blanket, and looked at her when she said his name. She pointed at the door and cocked her head questioningly. Would they leave the room?

He shook his head no. They were staying in the tiny room.

“Theodor,” she whispered, and found his hand under the blanket.


He saw her wet eyes and the devastation therein. Before today he had never thought of himself as a nurturing man, or even a particularly kind man, but he extended an arm to wrap around her waist and pull her into his lap. She leaned forward against his chest with great hesitation and he stroked her back and kissed her forehead. He owed her comfort because he had kept her alive instead of letting her die or run.

The day ended with them both still naked, Helena curled and cradled in his arms.


Helena felt it when the boat dealt with large waves in the dead of night. She was terrified, wide awake in the tiny bed with the enormous Theodor, but he comforted her.

“What’s happening?” she asked, half asleep.

“Shh,” he mumbled, followed by something in a reassuring tone as he held her in a bear hug against him and kissed her forehead.

She didn’t want his kisses, she just wanted to be safe. After a bout of silence she began to weep again, and anguished sobs consumed her as she realized that even if her family wasn’t dead, they had run off and would have to start again far away, and she would never be able to find them even if she got back there. Helena would never know their fate, and they would never know hers.

Theodor couldn’t console her.


They were both very lucky that Helena proved immediately apt with his language. He had paper and char sticks to write with, and she picked up his alphabet rapidly and very quickly learned the names of most of the objects around the ship, and other things that she had drawn and inquired about. She had a great aptitude for drawing, so great that he found himself giving her all of the paper she wanted to continue it when she desired.

He was confident that she was safe outside of his cabin. Theodor watched her creep around and study people and things and understand the patterns. Always he saw her shying away from the men, but she played well with Sjef the dog and the three or so cats on the ship that kept the rats at bay. The two other women on the ship, slaves who had been born into that role, didn’t speak Helena’s language and shooed her away.

Theodor had not harmed his capture since the first day when he had raped her. He hadn’t even made her remove her clothes or touch him, but she had been willing to share the tiny bed with him when he slept, and hadn't shied from being held gently.

He sat on the deck, whittling. This far out at sea, the men who rowed now operated the sails. They refused to look at Helena out of fear that they’d be punished by Theodor, and he was fine with that. Sjef paced around, looking like an enormous black sheep with a lolling pink tongue. They were barely in sight of land, and it was exciting because it meant trading and restocking.

Helena had a lot of questions. “Your home?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “A stop.”

“Slaves?” she asked. It was not only a new word for her, but an entirely new concept that did not exist in her provincial farming town.

He shrugged. “Yes, there are usually some for sale.”

Nervously she asked, “I and you, two?” She tapped her collar.

“I won’t sell you,” he told her. “You stay with me.”

A flicker of a smile told him of her gratefulness before her face became somber once more. Ulton and Edan came to the deck to sit and look at the land. Their next stop was Desfjal, which they all knew well from past raids in the area. They were close to halfway home, but after Desfjal they would be stopping at one of their favorite targets, an island with a large shepherding tradition. They would be taking as much woolen fabric from there as possible, along with anything else valuable.

When there were other men around, Helena always seemed to stick close to Theodor. Today she sat next to his chair, hiding in his shadow with one hand closed tight around a tuft of fur on his left boot.

Ulton asked Theodor, “What are you going to get in Desfjal?”

“Lots of paper,” he said, immediately thinking of Helena’s drawings. His favorites were of Sjef. She drew him as he was in life, immensely differently from the way that he was used to seeing pictures. Carvings and illuminations usually showed animals from the sides, but Helena could draw Sjef no matter how he stood or sat, no matter where she was around him.

Edan said, “For your slave?”

“Yes, she needs to learn to read and write, she won’t be any good if she can only speak,” he said.

The men nodded. It was generally an accepted fact that a slave that didn’t know much could never be very helpful, so almost all had some degree of education in reading, writing, and mathematics. While Theodor did intend to teach Helena to read and write, it was also true that he was mostly planning on indulging her love of drawing.

“I need to get more candles,” he added, speaking aloud to form a list in his head. He wasn’t thinking very much about conversation. “And lots more dried fish. More clothes, maybe.”

After a while they were close enough to the land that someone decided it was time to toss the anchor. They never went to the port with their full ship, it caused too much trouble to do so in the packed trade town. It was dinghies only to Desfjal, and Theodor wanted to be one of the first ones off.