The Viking's Gay Thrall

By Collin White

Ever since he was a child, Adam knew he was different. He's always been tortured by visions of the future, and the villagers he lives with never let him forget that he's different. In a culture where the supernatural is forbidden, he's considered an outcast no matter how much he desperately tries to help. When the Vikings land on the beach next to his quiet town it's to Adam's dismay, especially when he finds out that they're not there for silver, gold, or women - they're looking for him. He's taken by force to their leader, Guthrun.

A prophecy foretold Adam being claimed by the all powerful leader, and nothing, not even Adam's weak protests, can stop it. Adam will struggle to make sense of things as Guthrun dominates him mentally, physically, and sexually in ways Adam never imagined as the prophecy is fulfilled and Guthrun tries to make his kingdom the most powerful on earth with Adam by his side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Salacious Stories
• Release date: Mar 27, 2023

Book preview

The Vikings Gay Thrall

Collin White

Chapter One

I knew it was going to rain the moment I looked up at the sky. Not one single cloud hovered, nor gray streak tinged the blue. I knew, though. My eyes were closed, my face turned to the sunshine, but I could see it. Angry black storm clouds hanging low, spilling rain in torrents, washing away the crops, and a few animals, of the village. Nothing the men and women did would stop the wrath of Mother Nature.

I slowly opened my eyes, the vision gradually dissipating as I did so. I wanted to tell the villagers what I had just seen; to warn them of the impending danger they would have to face, but no one would believe me. You see, I was an outsider in my village. I was strange, different, and I had come to be known as a crazy person by some. Others viewed me as a seer of sorts, but I still frightened them. They might pretend they believe me, or at least listen to me when I explain the things I've seen, although I know they're only doing it to placate me.  Here comes crazy Adam, they say. That red hair has to be unnatural; the work of some monstrous evil. Why has our village been cursed with such a terrible man?

Nothing the villagers said bothered me anymore. I'd heard it all, and I knew they didn't trust me. They let me stay, which I was thankful for, because I had nowhere else to go. They were most likely afraid I would do something to harm them if they tried to send me away. That was the real reason I'd been allowed to stay, or so I believed.

Blinking, I pushed myself up from the ground where I'd been sitting and brushed the dirt from the back of my pants. The urge to tell someone, anyone, about the upcoming storm was strong, almost irresistible. Even though I knew the villagers would brush off the news, I had to at least try and get them to listen to me.

I cleared my throat and walked with purpose towards the nearest group of men and women. They were huddled in front of one of the long houses, whispering feverishly about something. When they saw me striding towards them, they fell silent, their eyes filled with fear.

W-what do you want, Adam? one of the more timid looking women asked me.

There's a storm coming, I said, my eyes drifting towards the sky. I have seen it. Our crops are going to suffer; to be destroyed by the torrents of rain and wind. Animals will be swept away if we are not careful. You must prepare yourselves.

Turning my attention back to the group of villagers, I saw disbelief, fear, and anger written across their faces. One of the men stepped forward, his face mere inches from my own.

Do not lie to us, you, filthy, evil man! There's not a cloud in the sky! 

A vitriol of hatred spewed forth from his mouth, his ranting continuing as the others in his group agreed and huddled closer together. I sighed, knowing it was a hopeless cause. These simple folk never listened to me when I told them of the dangers to come. Perhaps one day things would change. Perhaps they would finally learn to heed my warnings. Not today, though.

I turned and walked away from the seething man, my feet carrying me in the direction of my own long house near the edge of the forest. I tried to keep to myself, not wanting to give the village folk a reason to banish me, but sometimes it was hard not to speak with them when I knew something awful was going to happen. I just wished they would pay attention to me when I did so.

Deciding I couldn't go home just yet, I wandered aimlessly, away from the village, trying to leave that sinking feeling behind me: the feeling that I was better off alone. This wasn't the first time the villagers reacted to my visions with scorn, and it wouldn't be the last. And yet, my visions continued to become reality. Who was the one blamed by those same villagers when they didn't heed my warnings? Who was spit upon and hit after little Tyr broke his leg and died two weeks later in terrible agony? I told his mother I had seen it happen in a vision, and to not let him play in the high weeds to the southeast, but I was mocked after it happened, the threats against me grew, as if I had cursed the village, as if I was the one responsible. And in a way, I was; I should have fought harder. Tyr's life depended on me. The young ones weren't so bad. They greeted me with a smile sometimes, or waved to me, before they remembered that I'm supposedly dangerous. Their parents would pull them away, scolding them and telling them that I was to be avoided. I still couldn't think of his bright blue eyes and toothy grin without my stomach becoming a boulder, sinking to the deepest parts of my own shameful regret.

A few months after Tyr's accident, I again went to the village and pleaded with them to listen to me. A fire was going to be started in one of the long houses, spreading through to three more of them and destroying everything inside. Only a few of them argued to heed my warning, but became so shunned by the rest of the villagers that their taking my vision seriously quickly fizzled. Even if they wanted to protect the long houses, how could they? My visions never came with an exact time reference. The fires could be in three hours, or three months. But I noticed that night that some of the villagers kept full buckets of water in their houses. I couldn't lie; I felt a swell of gratitude deep inside, and when the fires came, two of the houses were saved.

It made little difference. The majority of the village accused me of setting the fires myself. Some fanatically shouted a belief that I could conjure fire out of thin air, making absurd connections between fire magic and the red of my hair. The tide turned against me, and I was pelted by rocks as I fled, bleeding and fighting the tears that I knew I could not hold back. I was convinced that the only reason I was not murdered in my sleep after the fires was because the belief that I was a dangerous witch was strong amongst the villagers. They feared their own lives, and so they left me in relative peace to live my life alone, away from them.

No one supported me publicly any longer, but I held out hope that they would take action to tamper the damage from this oncoming tempest as much as possible. Even if they injured me with their vitriol or punches, their safety was