Diana's heritage 
By Diana the Valkyrie
Diana discovers that she's actually a Valkyrie

This is the twelth in the series of stories by Diana. I'd just 
like to emphasise that, although I am rather stronger than the average 
girl (or even than the average man), what follows is entirely a fantasy 
of mine. I made it up. It didn't actually happen. But it is an important 
element of the series, it provides the key to many of the subsequent 
tales. 

So this older guy on the train, he can't be over forty, and he looks 
very nice, he asked me if I'd go to the theatre with him, and I said 
yes, so that looks hopeful. 

If sex and violence isn't you, then don't read this. And if you want to 
find out more about Norse Mythology, go to the Dansk Skib museum near 
Copenhagen. 



(C) Diana the Valkyrie, 1996. Email me at valkyrie@thevalkyrie.com




Do you want to buy a North Sea Oil rig? No, I'm kidding, I've already 
sold it. As you know, if you've been reading my tales, I'm a negotiator 
of large-ticket items (read Diana's Twin, if you want to know how come a 
Strong Woman works in this arena). And I found myself with one North 
sea oil rig, slightly used, only one careful owner, for sale, serious 
buyers only please. Said oil rig was owned by Norsk Oleo, and they 
didn't want it any more because the oil field it was sitting on was 
empty. So they sold it to a bunch of Arabs who had more use for an oil 
rig than the Norwegians, and my job was to negotiate the price with 
them. A few people at the bank queried whether it was right to send a 
woman to be part of the team that would be negotiating with Arabs, but 
the objectors decided not to make a fuss after I nobbled them. Nobbled? 
It's an old English word, meaning got at. In this case, I simply walked 
up to each one, gripped his genitals firmly in one hand, and said 
sweetly "Now explain to me why I can't deal with Arabs?" When you ask 
the question that way, there's no good answer, so I was on the team. By 
the way, if you're a man, you shouldn't try that, men get very umpty 
when a man grips their genitals, it's different when a woman does it. 

The arena (the room where we have the negotiating meeting) was in Narvik 
(that's in Norway, you know), and the meeting was a big one, three days. 
Oil rigs aren't cheap. The bank sent the usual team; me as chief 
negotiator, plus an accountant, a lawyer and a banker. The other side 
fielded six men, two of them large silent types, who stood behind the 
chair of their chief negotiator, Prince Ali Ibn Halib and looked like 
bodyguards. I smiled at one of them, and thought "You can come guard my 
body any time you feel like it, sunshine." Yummy. 

They started off with a long spiel about how poor they were, especially 
compared to the magnificence of Norsk Oleo. We sat through a long 
history of how foreigners had exploited their country, lifted all the 
oil, and now they needed to drill offshore. There was a dreary recital 
of how important the new offshore oil wells would be for the economy of 
the Western world. And ... well, you get the drift. We wasted an entire 
day listening to them rabbit on about irrelevancies. And at the end of 
the day, one of the two goons handed me a note from the Prince. I opened 
it, read it, and thought, "Diana, maybe this evening won't be a complete 
washout". Here's what it said. "Be at my room at nine". 

I'm always game for a bite of dinner, a bit of slap and tickle or a long 
vigorous fuck. So I had a bath with lavender water to get in the right 
mood, put on my best light blue satin evening gown, no bra, because that 
sort of dress looks so much better if your breasts support it, white 
high heels, a diamond brooch for my hair (no, they aren't real, but they 
look good). Touch of perfume behind each ear, a dozen condoms in my 
handbag (they don't take up much space, and it's better to have too many 
than too few). And I was ready for anything. 

Although I have to say I wasn't ready for what actually happened. As 
soon as I walked in the door, the two big guys each grabbed one of my 
hands, and started pulling me forward! "Oh no you don't", I thought, and 
kicked the one on the left in the goolies, hard. And I was wearing high-
heeled shoes with pointy toes. 

When you do that to a man, he's finished, out of it. That's why you're 
not allowed to do it in boxing or wrestling. But when a girl is grabbed 
by two large men, she doesn't have to stick to the rules. So a good kick 
in the goolies is called for, it puts a man completely out of action for 
quite a long time, he's helpless as a lamb for several minutes, and 
reduced efficiency for the next few hours. 

Then, without waiting, you follow up with a good kick in the goolies to 
the other guy, and that's the end of the fight, if you can call it a 
fight. My long satin skirt hampered me a bit, but not too much. The 
trouble was, it had absolutely no effect. Well, not quite zero, I could 
see I'd gotten through to them, but not the soundless scream followed by 
the slow collapse to the ground that should have happened. As I kicked, 
I twisted my body to aim, and pulled my arms out of their grasp, so I 
now stood facing them, and whereas at the meeting I'd just regarded them 
as part of the furniture, this time I really looked at them. And I 
realised why a kick in the goolies had so little effect - no ruddy 
goolies. These two guys were eunuchs, full eunuchs. 

Apparently, when you cut off a man's balls, he starts growing again, 
it's something to do with the hormones. So if you're dissatisfied with 
your size, just cut your balls off. They must have been at least six 
foot six, nine inches more than me even wearing heels. And I have no 
idea what they weighed, but I would guess that each of them was twice my 
weight. And no goolies to kick. 

Usually, when I want to hurt a man, I dig my fingers into his wrists, 
elbows, armpits and other soft areas; the agony drains their strength, 
and they become like crying babies. Well, that isn't going to work if 
while you're working on one of them, the other one is hammering at your 
head. So, as soon as I saw that the kicks in the goolies had very little 
effect, I knew I had to come up with an alternative. 

When I was rather younger than I am now, I was made to do ballet. My 
mother thought it would make me more graceful, stop me breaking things. 
It wasn't that I was clumsy, it was just that things seemed to come 
apart in my hands. They still do, in spite of the ballet. Anyway, I did 
learn one thing from ballet, and that was the high kick, and it all came 
back to me as I kicked the eunuchs in the face. Have you ever been 
kicked in the face? It hurts almost as much as the goolies, and they 
sort of crumpled. But you don't leave them to recover, while they're 
temporarily out of action from your kick, you put them permanently out 
of action, unless you're just playing with them. And I didn't feel it 
was playtime. So, while they were still reeling from my kicks in the 
face, I jumped on them and gave each of them the fingers in the arms 
routine, very quickly and very hard, like I was trying to get my fingers 
inside his flesh, a man's useless if you paralyse his arms. Once in the 
armpit, once in the crook of the elbow, and once on the inside of the 
wrist, it's totally disabling, they can't use their arms, and the pain 
means they don't even want to. There are major nerve junctions under 
your arms - try putting your own fingers in there and digging, you'll 
see how easily you can hurt yourself quite a lot. Er - do be careful. I 
don't want you hurting yourself. 

Then I stood up, and looked around, in case there were any more. And 
there were two more men in the room, Prince Ali sitting on a chair, and 
a guy sitting on the floor. Neither of them looked like much of a 
threat, so I calmed down, and took stock of the situation. And then Ali 
spoke. "Bravo, my dear, everything I've heard about you is true." Huh? 
Ali smiled, and immediately I knew that he didn't need to use hair oil, 
he was oily enough already. "I prepared this little test for you, and 
you passed with flying colours. Congratulations, my dear!" 

I walked over to him. I'm not sure what he expected - maybe he's a 
person worthy of great respect where he comes from. "First of all, I'm 
not your dear, secondly I *don't* like hurting men, and if it was your 
fault that I had to hurt these two, then you should be ashamed of 
yourself, and thirdly look what you made me do to my best dress!" If you 
high-kick when you're wearing a blue silk sheath dress, it makes a big 
tear up the side. My favourite dress was ruined. Ali laughed, and that 
made me really angry, and it isn't a good idea to get me angry. I don't 
lose my temper very often, but when I do, try not to be around me. I sat 
on Ali's lap, facing him, and put my legs round both him (and the back 
of the chair). I linked my ankles, and then straightened my legs, and as 
the wooden chair back cracked and broke, Ali was squeezed between two 
thighs like telegraph poles. I don't put my legs round a man like that 
very often, but when I do, you don't want to be that man, really you 
don't. He was trying to say something as he passed out (either from the 
pain or from lack of air, it's usually a race between the two). I didn't 
hurt him too badly, like break his ribs or anything, I wanted him fit 
for action in the arena tomorrow. We still had a deal to do. I just 
wanted him to appreciate the position he was in. 

I stood up, and looked round the room. Two eunuchs, not moving very much 
on the floor, one Prince, slowly falling out of a broken chair, and one 
guy still sitting on the floor, hands round his knees, and now looking 
rather scared. "And who are you?" I asked him. He looked up at me, 
fearfully. "Hassan. Please don't hurt me." "And what's you're job, 
Hassan?" "I look after the harem, effendi" 

It made sense. Eunuchs - harem. "So why are you here, now?" Hassan 
looked around for help, but there was only me, and I crouched down to 
his level, and put my fingers on his neck, lightly. He understood the 
implied threat; he'd seen what my fingers had done to the eunuchs. 
"Hassan, tell me everything, and tell me immediately, right now!" "The 
Prince has heard of your physical prowess, and wanted to invite you to 
join his harem." "My physical prowess?" "The tremendous strength of your 
hands, and your unmatchable ability to fuck. He would like you to be his 
bodyguard and his concubine." Oh. Well, I suppose that's a compliment. 
"And what was supposed to be in it for me, then?" "You would be paid, 
and paid well, a king's ransom." "What's that in dollars?" "The Prince 
was going to offer you a quarter of a million, but was willing to go up 
to a million." "Per year?"  "Yes, effendi, per year." A million dollars 
per year! That would have to make me the highest paid prostitute in the 
world. Not bad, eh? Just two problems. "Hassan, I wouldn't have been 
interested. First of all, I'm not a whore, you don't buy Diana  
like cheese. And secondly, why would I take a pay cut?" 


I'm good at what I do. Have you ever tried negotiating a deal with a 
strong, sexy woman? She'll wipe the floor with you. The combination of 
sex and violence will turn your willpower to mush, and you'll do 
whatever she tells you to do. The last deal did, I personally made 
281,250 pounds in commission, which is about $400,000. So even if I 
were willing to become a tart, I'd make more in a single deal than the 
prince was offering me for a year's screwing. Not a chance, chum. I 
explained this to Hassan, and I think he understood, or possibly he 
thought I was trying to get the price up a bit, and he looked *very* 
disappointed. "I was looking forward to teaching you the arts of the 
harem", he said. I looked down a little, and there was a beautiful bulge 
in his loose and flowing pants. I smiled at him, and stroked it, and the 
bulge grew into my hand, becoming more like a protrusion. "Is that what 
you do, Hassan, teach the girls how to fuck?" "Oh, no, much more than 
that. I teach them how to extract the maximum pleasure from a man; 
sucking, stroking, delaying, the eighty positions, how to give a 
multiple orgasm, all the thousand and one arts of love." I squeezed him 
gently. "Really? Isn't that a bit too tempting for you?" "Oh, as the 
harem-master, I'm allowed to take the girls all the way." "It must be 
like working in a sweet factory!" Hassan nodded. "I generally have 
several orgasms each day." "Several?" "Eight or ten." 

Really? My toes curled, my ears tingled, and various other extremities 
curled, tingled or did their own thing. If he was telling the truth, 
that's a remarkable capability. The men that I bed are usually up to 
two, three at most. To get the third, I have to coax them, the fourth 
takes plenty of coaxing and lots of time, and anything after that is 
rape. Hassan was interesting, and I asked him about it. "Yes, it's true. 
I was selected for my ability to sustain an erection for a very long 
time, and to recover rapidly after ejaculation. Look at this." He stood 
up, pulled down his pants, and spread his legs apart. Hanging down 
between them was a penis of fairly ordinary size, and testicles as big 
as large ripe peaches. I reached out and touched them, yes, they were
real. I was careful not to bruise the soft, tender fruit; Hassan let me 
weigh them in my hand. Impressive. About twice as big as the ones I was 
familiar with, and really heavy and meaty. After a few moments thought, 
I realised that twice the diameter meant eight times the volume, so his 
claim of eight or ten orgasms per day seemed plausible. "Hassan, does 
having big balls like yours mean you ejaculate more quantity or more 
often?" Just asking the question was getting me all wet. "It could be 
either, it depends on the girls. One of them knows how to compress her 
vagina round my penis, and she milks me as much as several ordinary 
girls." I smiled. I can do that. If I want to. So that means, I can have 
huge orgasms, or lots of smaller ones, my choice. I've never faced a 
choice like that before, and I could see I'd have to try it each way, 
several times, and even then it would be difficult to choose. Yes, I 
could see Hassan providing a lot of fun. 

"Hassan, how would you like a job?" "Doing what?" "Running a harem, of 
course." "You have a harem, effendi?" "Stop calling me effendi, call me 
Miss Diana. No, call me Diana. I am the harem, Hassan. You can teach me 
all about the arts of love, I'm sure there's lots and lots I don't know. 
And when I get horny, which is often, and the man I bed falls asleep 
before I'm finished with him, you can finish me off. What does Prince 
Ali pay you?" "Forty dinars each week. That's about ten dollars." "I'll 
pay you five dollars. You've heard my sexual reputation. My vaginal 
compression is several times as powerful as anything you've ever felt." 

Hassan looked at me. I know I could have easily afforded to double what 
the prince paid, even ten times as much. But I wanted Hassan to come to 
me without money being the motive. I wanted him in a state of high lust, 
not simple greed. 

He shook his head. "I don't know. Where would I be living?" "In England, 
Hassan. Where there are many beautiful women. And you'd live with me, in 
my house." My lovely long blue dress was already ruined, so I yanked it 
off, showing him my long legs, powerful thighs, and enticing genitals. 
"Come to me, Hassan, and I'll show you what only a strong woman can do 
to a man." I didn't need to persuade him any more. His erection 
controlled his body, and I controlled his erection. I wrapped my vagina 
around his penis, and started milking. 

It was four hours later before we stopped. I counted the first dozen or 
so, but after that, I gave up, and just abandoned myself to the glorious 
sensuality that a stiff penis inside a soft vagina gives to both of us. 
And Hassan's huge testicles were a reservoir that kept his penis stiff 
and hard. We fell asleep, my arms round his body, my legs round his 
thighs. And next morning, I was licked awake with a busy little tongue 
on my right nipple. "No, Hassan, I want to save you for this evening." 
He looked disappointed, but one of the things he'd learned last night, 
was obedience, it isn't hard to teach obedience to a man, much easier 
than a puppy.

That day, we completed the oil-rig deal. Prince Ali was like jelly, soft 
and submissive. I simply told him what the terms and conditions would 
be, and he nodded, his eyes on the floor. Serves him right for playing 
silly games last night. By noon, only minor details needed sorting, and 
that's what I had my team for, so I left them to get on with it, and 
took Hassan out shopping. 

Because there was a party that evening. Norsk Oleo were celebrating 
getting shot of a rig that they didn't need, at an excellent price. 
Prince Ali's crowd were supposedly celebrating getting a bargain used 
oil rig, only one careful owner. And I was there because I just love 
parties, parties are the best way to make contact with new trousers. 
Except, of course, my lovely blue dress was ruined. So Hassan and I 
went shopping in Narvik. 

I had terrible trouble getting a really nice dress. I like to look 
sophisticated but very sexy, an impossible combination really. The best 
way I've found, is a long dress, silky, not low cut, because that's very 
gauche, but clingy, so that it hides my figure the way gasoline hides a 
fire. I finally found something darling in powder blue, I think blue 
goes with my hair, I look OK in powder blue, and then I bought something 
for Hassan. 
 
You see, Hassan came wrapped up like a Christmas parcel. To get at the 
goodies, you had to take off a long shift sort of thing, called a 
burnoose, then under that he had pantaloons, then underwear, and only 
then could you get your hands on those lovely big, soft fruit, as large 
and soft as peaches, and needing to be handled even more gently, because 
I didn't want to bruise my lovely new sex machine. 

So I bought him shorts; tailored, and loose-fitting, especially round 
the crotch, where Hassan needed as much space as you'd expect for 
someone carrying a pound of peaches around in his trousers, and I got 
the tailor to make him even more room in there, because I guessed that 
an erection would be a rather frequent occurrence, and I didn't want it 
to be a painful event, plus I wanted there to be enough room for a pair 
of hands, because I rather like handling the merchandise. 

So Hassan was my escort to the Norsk Oleo party. I explained to him 
ahead of time that for me, a party is just a hunting ground, a place to 
pick up men, go home with them, and fuck their brains out. Hassan 
understood, and said he'd sit in a corner and be quiet. I told him not 
to be silly, if he wanted to pick up a girl he could, as long as he 
didn't use up more than one or two orgasms on her. Hassan looked a bit 
put out. "Miss Diana, how could I even think of another girl when 
you're there?" I smiled at him, slipped my hand into his shorts, and 
hefted those lovely soft, but massive gonads in my hand. "Don't worry, 
Hassan. Whoever I pick up will be the appetiser, but you'll be the main 
course." And he stiffened nicely in response to my promise. 

The party was great, Norwegians are tall and blond, and not at all as 
boring as the Swedes say they are. Indeed, the Norwegians say unkind 
things about the Swedes and Finns, and I learned a lot of Swedish and 
Finnish jokes that evening. Curiously, the jokes that Norwegians tell 
about Finns and reindeer are very similar to the jokes that Aussies tell 
about New Zealanders and sheep. Anyway, I was in a group of rather 
scrumptious Norwegians, each trying to tell the most risque joke, and I 
was trying to pretend to be embarrassed, but actually trying to decide 
which of them to take back to my hotel, or are Scandinavians broad-
minded enough for me to get away with two of them? Then out of the 
corner of my eye, I saw Hassan, and Hassan seemed to have scored, big 
time. 

He was standing holding a drink, orange juice, because he told me he 
didn't touch alcohol, and talking to a rather thick-set blonde woman. 
She must have been five foot six, and she looked wide and chunky, very 
heavy, maybe as much as me. Hassan was looking adoringly at her, and as 
I looked, I could see that her hand was resting lightly on his groin. 
And I recognised the look in her eyes, it said "Gotcha". 

Hassan had explained his seduction technique to me earlier. "I just tell 
them that my testicles are as large as ripe peaches, and that seems to 
get them excited." Just thinking about it got me wet, so I guess it 
works. So I looked over at them, and wondered if there would be any of 
Hassan left for me after she got through with him, so I chose Sven, the 
largest Norwegian from the group round me, and asked him to follow me. 
We walked over to Hassan and his friend, and I said hello. "Hello, 
Hassan" I said to my harem-master. Then I turned to the blonde. "Hi, I'm 
Diana." She looked at me and gave me a big smile. "Hello, I'm 
Freya" she said, sounding like Greta Garbo. Then she looked at Sven, and 
said something in Swedish, or maybe Norwegian, and his face changed - he 
looked uncomfortable and a bit twitchy. I wonder what she said. Then she 
said something else, and he nodded vigorously, and smiled like a puppy 
does when you give it a chocolate. I thought I'd ask him later what that 
was all about. Meanwhile, I thought I'd better establish ownership of 
Hassan. "Hassan, don't forget you have to be back at the hotel by 
midnight." There, that should put a crimp in whatever plans she's got 
for him. Even if she started right away, Hassan should be able to cope 
with three hours of sex and still have quite a lot left for me. Those 
large balls of his can store quite a lot of whatever is it that men keep 
in their balls. 

So, back at the hotel, round about midnight, I heard the door open. I 
pushed Sven off me (I prefer to have the man on top, it gives him a 
feeling of control) and stood up. Sven just groaned, I think he'd 
reached his limit an hour or two ago, and I don't think he'd ever been 
fucked three times beyond his limit before. You know how a silk night-
dress rucks up and pulls down until it's more like a wide belt than a 
nightie, so I pulled my night-dress up and down to look decent. And in 
walked Freya, carrying Hassan, who was fast asleep, in her arms. "This 
is yours, I think, Diana" she said, smugly. I honestly wouldn't have 
thought that you could flake Hassan out with sex in less than four 
hours, but Freya had managed to do it in three. She carried him in to my 
bedroom, and laid him down next to the exhausted Sven. "Diana, I would 
like to talk to you." I'm not going to try to phoneticise her accent, 
just imagine lots of Vs where you'd expect Ws. So I put the kettle on, 
and made us both hot chocolate. 

"I asked Hassan about you, Diana. Because you were wearing a sleeveless 
dress, so I could see your arms and shoulders, and Hassan confirmed what 
I had suspected. You're a Valkyrie, aren't you?" What? I looked a bit 
baffled, so Freya rolled up her sleeve and showed me her arm, which was 
large. I mean, I couldn't see big bulging muscles, but I could see that 
she wasn't fat, so all that arm had to be something else. Then she 
reached into her bag and pulled out an apple, put it between her palms, 
and with her elbows out, pressed inwards. If a man had been present, 
he'd have been staring at her breasts at that point, and although mine 
are entirely adequate, I rather wish they were as well developed as 
Freya's, although I guess a lot of people would say hers were excessive. 
Anyway, I was watching the apple, although not for long, because it 
wasn't an apple for long. A few seconds later, it was just a pulpy mess, 
with apple juice all over the hotel carpet. "I'm a Valkyrie, you see. 
You are too, aren't you? Hassan told me about you." 

I'm not sure about this Valkyrie bit, but I understood what she meant. I 
got one of my six inch nails, I always like to keep some handy, they 
help my morale no end, and I bent one of them in my fingers, then handed 
it to Freya. She smiled at me, took it in her hands, straightened it, 
and handed it back. 

I've never seen anyone else who could do that, not even my chum Vicky, 
although I think she could if she practised a bit. I burbled a bit. 
"Huh?" "I'm a Valkyrie, Diana, like you are." So I had to try her trick 
with the apple, and it isn't easy I can tell you, and there isn't any 
technique to it like there is with six inch nails. Then she invited me 
to feel her arms, and I let her touch mine, and arms led to legs, and 
then bellies, and before I knew where I was, I'd gotten so turned on 
that I had to wake up Hassan, and give him a bit of a seeing-to. Freya 
watched while I did it; she'd had plenty of Hassan earlier, so she was 
all right. 

Then, after I'd soothed Hassan back to sleep, and straightened my night-
dress, she told me the history. "You know the legend of he Valkyries?" 
"Yes, nine sisters, daughters of Wotan (or Odin), the Choosers of the 
Slain. Invincible warrior maidens who pick fallen heroes up from the 
battlefield to carry them off to Valhalla, the Viking heaven. Then the 
heroes fight each day and feast each night until Gotterdammerung, when 
they fight the final battle." "Well, like so many myths, it was based in 
fact, but it got a bit distorted. It was round about 200 BC. There were 
nine sisters, Brunhilde was the eldest and most famous, and they did 
fight in battles, and they never did get beaten. And after the battle, 
they would find wounded men on the battlefield, not too badly wounded, 
of course, and take them back home, and you can probably guess what they 
did with them." "Fuck their brains out?" "Of course! And that's how the 
rumour that they took them to Valhalla got started." "So what happened 
to them in the end?" "Well, what would you expect in the days before 
contraceptives? They kept getting pregnant and having babies. They all 
lived together in a long-hut, the nine sisters, their babies, and 
whatever men they had they shared. The Valkyries that weren't too 
heavily pregnant would go out on raids and wars, the others would look 
after the babies. The babies grew up, the Valkyries grew old, and the 
legend was born." 

"So what does that have to do with you and me?" "It works like this. 
Every other generation can have Valkyries. If you have a daughter, and 
your daughter has a daughter, then there's a one in sixteen chance that 
she's a Valkyrie like you and me." I looked at Freya, it made a lot of 
sense. "I have a friend, Vicky, she's a Valkyrie, then. And we think her 
grandmother might have been, but we don't know. And my grandmother 
definitely was." "A lot of Valkyries keep it quiet, so that all the 
world sees is a chunky blonde with thick arms and legs. But a few of us 
are proud to be so strong, and use the advantages that it gives you." I 
nodded, and explained to Freya how a financial negotiator worked, and 
how being a Valkyrie was an immense advantage. Goodness, I was already 
thinking of myself that way. "What do you do, Freya?" 

Freya explained to me that she worked for a company that made mixed 
wrestling videos. "I'm their main female star" she said. "The main 
problem is making sure I don't hurt my opponents too much, so that they 
can fight again next day." I knew what she meant. "Men are so fragile, 
so delicate, you have to be so careful with them. Vicky hasn't got the 
hang of it yet, she's always hurting her sex partners." I told Freya 
about Vicky, how pleased I was to find a woman like myself, and how 
great it was to meet Freya now. "Tell me more about Valkyries, Freya" 

"We tend to be blonde, dark gold at most, more often ash blonde. Not 
short, but not terribly tall either." "I thought the nine sisters were 
all big girls?" "Not really. By the standards of two thousand years ago, 
maybe. People were generally smaller then, you and I would be considered 
tall. But people thought they were big because of the weapons they 
wielded." I waited for more. "In those days, you carried a spear, a 
sword, a mace, a war hammer, a war axe, something like that. And if it 
was big and heavy, it would do more damage to your opponent, but you 
needed a lot of strength to swing a heavy sword." "Mmmh, and the sisters 
could do that, so everyone thought they must be huge." "Right. Of 
course, the men they took home knew differently, but they didn't talk 
much about their experiences, except to say they were in heaven." I 
smiled. "I can imagine. I can create heaven for a man between my legs, 
and it's worth doing because it makes them sexier." "But they didn't 
talk about their experiences, because in those days, to be gang-raped by 
nine women would be considered shameful." 

Freya and I looked at each other. "Freya, have you ever raped a man?" 
She laughed. "Oh, Diana, of course I have, you must have too?" "Well, 
not a leap out of an alley sort of thing, no I haven't, actually." "No, 
I didn't mean that. I mean, after he says "Well, I'm going to sleep 
now", and you've still got the itch?" Well, of course I have, yes, and I 
told her so. "I usually do that, but I don't count that as rape, because 
afterwards, they always tell me it was the most wonderful experience of 
their lives." "It is rape, Diana, because they aren't consenting, not 
at the time." I suppose so. "So you don't do that?" She shook her head, 
hair flying around, and laughed. "Of course I do, it's one of the perks 
of being a Valkyrie". Freya reached back to her hair and unpinned it, 
letting it cascade down round her shoulders. I've got nice hair, but not 
as long and lovely as hers. But she wasn't showing me her hair, she was 
showing me what she used to keep it in place, a rather vicious looking 
dagger. "A Valkyrie always carries a weapon." I laughed. Funnily enough, 
so do I, but I don't think of it as a weapon. "I'll show you what I 
always carry", and I fetched my belt. 

My belt is rather special. I got it in a brothel, in America, and they 
weren't using it as a belt. It was actually a whip, a long and vicious 
whip, a horsewhip that would be totally illegal to use on a horse. It's 
made out of leather, and if you look at the handle for a while, you 
gradually realise that a bull gave up his most important and precious 
part to make that handle. Well, I expect he was dead at the time, and it 
didn't matter to him any more. Obviously, I would never, ever use it to 
hurt a horse (or a man), but it is the most incredibly intimidating 
thing that a girl can carry. I'm not into S&M, or B&D; straight fucking 
is my preference, with the man on top to give him the feeling of being 
in charge, because it helps their ego, and that makes them last longer. 

Freya admired my whip. "Now that truly is a weapon for a Valkyrie", so I 
gave it to her as a present, I know where I can get another one. And 
she gave me her dagger, with a little scabbard, and she showed me how 
you use the scabbard as a hair-comb to keep your hair in place, and then 
the dagger just clicks into the scabbard, and you can just reach up and 
draw it in one swift move. And it was so beautiful, and it felt so right 
in my hair, and I hugged her, long and hard. "But surely you can't go 
around slicing people up, Freya? You'll get arrested or something." She 
giggled. "No, but you can have a lot of fun castrating men with it." I 
frowned. My code of conduct precludes castration; apart from anything 
else, there's a limit to how much fun you can have with a castrated 
male. Anyway, I don't like to hurt men, it isn't right, they're the 
weaker sex, and they need protecting. I voiced these reservations, and 
she giggled again. "No, silly, you don't cut that off. I'll show you 
some time." 

"You talk about Valkyries, plural, do you know of lots of others?" Freya 
sighed. "No. That's why I was so keen to meet you, Diana. I only know of 
three others, my grandmother, one of my sisters, and Hilde Thorsdottir. 
You know, when you look around, you see so many women who might be 
Valkyries, but they pretend that they're ordinary women. Hilde used to 
do that, she said that if she hadn't, she'd never have got a husband." 
"But that's not true, Freya, you know the effect we have on men. Golly, 
I don't need a husband just at the moment, but if I did, I'd just pick 
one and tell him. Anyway, now I've got Hassan, if I'm careful with him, 
he'll do me for ages." "The trouble is, it might not be true, but they 
don't know it until they tell the world about themselves." I thought of 
Vicky, strong, confident Vicky who could reduce a man to a sobbing wreck 
in minutes and often did, and compared her to the nervous uncertain 
Victoria that she'd been when I first met her. It's true. Women suffer 
from a terrible lack of self confidence, and they're even afraid to 
admit to being a Valkyrie in case people think poorly of them. "Well, we 
need to find them and tell them that they needn't worry, that being a 
Valkyrie is something to be proud of, not something to hide." Freya 
nodded. "Sometimes I see a pretty blonde woman, broad in the beam, 
sturdy arms and legs, and I think, I wonder if she's one of us, 
pretending to be a weak woman. But how can we find the other Valkyries?" 

I found Vicky by accident, literally. She tried to throw herself in 
front of my car, but I stopped in time and took her home with me, looked 
after her, and taught her that her strong woman's heritage is something 
to be proud of (read "Diana's Chum"). "I found Hilde partly by accident, 
also. You see, I'm well known here in Narvik, and sometimes men stop me 
in bars and challenge me to arm wrestle. I always win, of course, but 
I'm careful not to hurt them too badly, just enough so they know they've 
had their hand in mine. And Hilde was a dancer in a bar down by the 
waterfront, where you get lots of rather rough sailors, and she was 
watching me, and she suddenly said "I can do that!" So I faced her, but 
she said "No, not you, him," pointing to the man I'd just beaten, so 
they had a match which she won. So then another guy in the bar wanted to 
have a round with her, but I said "A hundred kroner". And that evening, 
she won a couple of thousand kroner. We met the next day, and I 
explained about her Valkyrie heritage to her. "It was so easy" she said, 
meaning the kroner she'd made. "They just kept laying down the hundred-
kroner notes!" So Hilde was public as well. 

"What does she do now?" "She's still a dancer in the bar, but she takes 
challenges from the men there. The deal is, if she beats the challenger, 
he pays a hundred kroner, but if he beats her, she gives him an orgasm. 
She told me, sometimes, if the man looks attractive and she's feeling 
randy, she'll let him win on purpose, so she can take him upstairs and 
screw his lights out. You know, Diana, judging from you, me, Vicky and 
Hilde, one of the significant characteristics of a Valkyrie seems to be 
that we fuck a lot." I nodded. I know that my level of sexual activity 
is way above normal; I know that because my sexual partners tell me so. 
They say things like "You've got an appetite like five women", or "It 
would take ten men to satisfy you." Which boils down to the same thing, 
of course, most women could handle any two men quite easily. So I suffer 
from Rampant Horniness, I have to carry a couple of spare pairs of 
knickers around in my bag, because sometimes the ones I'm wearing get so 
wet, you can wring them out. And more than a few guys have told me that 
my clitoris is unusually big and sensitive, but I can't confirm that, 
because I'm not really sure what the average is. 

"So that's five, plus my gran and yours, and maybe Vicky's gran, but 
she's dead, and what about Hilde's gran?" "I don't know, is it 
important?" "No, I guess not. I'd love to meet your sister." "I've got 
three sisters, I guess you mean Ekaterina, the one that's a Valkyrie." I 
nodded. "The only thing is, Diana, she doesn't want everyone to know 
about it, she's one of the secret Valkyries." But that's just daft..." 
"I know, but it's her choice, and we've got to respect it." "Is she 
prick-mad like we are?" "She's married. He absolutely worships her, and 
he always looks exhausted, so I guess she puts him through the wringer." 
"Maybe if I lent her Hassan for a night?" Freya grinned. "If you can 
spare him for another night, lend him to me!" Hassan looked fearfully at 
me, and whimpered slightly. "Don't worry, Hassan, you're staying in my 
bed." He looked relieved, I guess Freya had taken him past that point 
where men stop feeling pleasure in sex, and start to feel pain. It's an 
easy enough mistake to make, goodness knows I've done it often enough 
myself. The trouble is, men say "No" when they really mean "Yes please", 
so you don't know when they really mean it, and you have to guess. 

Freya told me that she'd put an advertisement in the newspaper once, 
asking for Valkyries to get in touch with her, but she didn't get any 
replies, except from men who wanted to meet them. "So I really don't 
know how to get in touch with other Valkyries, but know that there must 
be plenty out there." "How many, do you suppose?" Freya shrugged. I 
tried to think of the girls at school, about how many were blonde, 
heavy-set and therefore potential Valkyries. I could think of a few. But 
since I didn't know how many of those really were Valkyries, I couldn't 
even guess. "It would be so nice to get in touch with other Valkyries", 
Freya said, wistfully. I was thinking the same thing. I thought about it 
quite hard. 

"You have really lovely hair, Freya." So then I brushed her hair for 
her, and she brushed mine for me, and I carried Sven out of the bedroom 
and got him settled on a couch, and Freya and I snuggled down in bed 
together, with Hassan between us, Freya holding his big soft cock, and 
my hands protectively round his big tender balls, and we fell asleep 
like that. 

Next morning, Hassan woke us both up, by the simple expedient of having 
an erection, which moved Freya's hands against mine, so we all woke up. 
There was an idea flowering in my head, the way that ideas sometimes do 
first thing in the morning, but there were more urgent things to think 
about, like what to do with Hassan's erection. Don't get me wrong, I 
know exactly what to do with an erection, the general idea is to keep it 
hard as long as you can while you get yourself off against it as many 
times as you can. But what is simple when there is just me and the 
erection, is made more complicated by the presence of Freya, who had 
exactly the same idea. It seemed a pity to waste it, so I argued that 
Freya had had the lions share of Hassan last night, and she argued that 
I'd been the last to enjoy his dick so it was her turn, and eventually 
we had to reach a hasty compromise because Hassan was making a sound 
like a strangled chicken. So I held him steady, one arm round his chest, 
legs round his thighs, and with his body bent back in a bow so that his 
genitals stood out large and proud. And Freya enveloped his penis with 
her vagina and started milking him. So I told Hassan to use his hands on 
her breasts while I fondled his huge balls. 

After Freya stopped screaming, and got her breath back, she told me that 
we'd given her a double orgasm; the electricity had zapped both her 
vagina and her breasts, hence all the noise. "Now let's see if we can do 
the same thing for you, Diana". Well, Hassan did his best, bless him, 
but there's only so much a man can do. Fortunately, there had been a 
complaint about the noise Freya had made - I say fortunately, because 
there was a knock on the door, and a big strapping man from hotel 
security was standing there. I tried not to lick my lips while he tried 
to decide whether to stare at Diana in her white silk night-dress 
that leaves nothing to the imagination, or Freya, stark naked. In the 
end, it was Freya. As she walked towards him, he breathed "Die Valkyrie" 
and sank to his knees. She smiled, took his hand and led him inside, I 
closed the door, and Hassan's inabilities didn't matter so much. "Take 
off all your clothes" said Freya, and he did, still muttering "Die 
Valkyrie leben" or something like that. It turned out that he'd bought 
all Freya's videos, and practically worshipped her. She told me she 
wasn't that surprised, there were a lot of men like that, and it made 
getting bed-mates really simple. She told me she could walk up to a 
likely-looking man in a supermarket, and just tell him to follow her 
home. Which sounds quite handy, I'll have to try that myself some time. 

I didn't have a the same sort of double orgasm that Freya had just 
experienced, but I still felt quite relaxed afterwards. Freya wanted to 
give him a crushed apple, apparently she uses it as a sort of trademark. 
I told her that my own custom was to give them the nail that I'd bent in 
order to totally intimidate them. "It means they can keep it for ever." 
Freya smiled at that. "I give them a pair of panties to keep." 

A bit of exercise in the morning is good for you, and we both felt very 
bucked up, so Freya offered to take me on a guided tour of Narvik. 
"Here's where the fishing boats come in". Pretty short tour. Narvik is 
fishing, and that's it. If you don't like herring, don't go to Narvik. 
Fortunately, I like herring, and something they call red spot fish, 
which turned out to be plaice, and several other sorts of fish that I 
couldn't translate. Freya said that fish stimulates sexual performance, 
so I said that in that case, we shouldn't have too much, or we'd kill 
some poor guy, and she giggled. Then she took me to the studio where 
they make the videos, and it's ever so simple, just a room with a 
fighting ring and a bunch of ordinary video cameras. "Who owns this 
operation?" I asked, Diana the deal negotiator sticking her head up. So 
Freya introduced me to the owner, Johannes, a small guy that any 
Valkyrie would eat for breakfast. He explained the operation - Freya 
wasn't the only girl doing mixed wrestling videos, there were three 
others, but Freya was the only Valkyrie, the others were faking it, 
really. "The biggest problem is finding opponents for Freya" he said, 
looking at her adoringly. Freya grinned, and explained that although she 
was ever so gentle with them, they inevitably got hurt sometimes, and 
even if they didn't, they would be reluctant to face her a second time. 

The idea that I'd had overnight came back to me. "Have you ever thought 
of selling the business?" I asked. "No", he said, frowning. I perched 
myself on his desk, facing him, and started picking up his pencils one 
at a time and gently breaking them in my fingers. He watched me, like a 
rabbit watches a stoat. "You should think about it now. It's always best 
to sell a business while it's doing well." I looked at Freya, and 
grinned. "Have you ever thought how terrible it would be if all your 
male wrestlers got beaten up?" "They're insured" said Johannes. "Anyway, 
Freya protects us, no-one wants to get Freya angry." I finished his 
pencils, and started picking up his biros, one at a time, and snapping 
those. "I'm a Valkyrie too, you know" I said casually, swinging my legs 
as I sat on his desk. All the pens and pencils were broken now, so I 
started picking up the pieces and breaking those in half. I could see 
the bulge in his trousers, he was having a nice big erection. Sex and 
violence, there isn't a man alive who can stand up to that combination. 
"Why don't you go and fetch the books, and we'll see how much this 
operation is worth?" 

Johannes scuttled off, and Freya spoke to me. "What are you up to, 
Diana. You don't really want to buy him out, do you? I mean, if you want 
to make videos, you just hire a cameraman, you don't need anything 
else." "Freya, you know how to wrestle, I know how to do deals. I know 
what I'm doing, don't worry." Freya shrugged, and I could see from the 
front of her blouse that Freya shrugging would do terrible things to a 
man's mind. Johannes returned with a pile of ledgers - Great Odin, they 
didn't use a computer, just paper books. I went through them with him; 
as Freya had said, the physical assets of the company were virtually 
nil. They were making good profits out of Freya's videos, and from the 
figures it was obvious that nothing else they did was making money. I 
mean, would you pay to see a man and a woman pretend to fight? But when 
Freya picked a man up, held him over her head, then smashed him down on 
the ground, you knew it was real. Because you could see them bounce. 
They say that even a dead cat will bounce if you throw it hard enough. 

I offered him a million kronor for the business, provided he signed up 
to a contract to run it for three years - I needed someone to run it 
that actually knew the business. That isn't as much as it sounds, you 
get several kronor for a dollar. He refused the offer. "OK, what will 
you take?" I asked. Time to negotiate. He named an absurd figure. "Don't 
be silly, Johannes." He folded his arms, stubbornly. I smiled at him, 
and took off my jacket. "Do you really want this?" I asked. "What?" I 
stepped out of my skirt. "Have you ever done any wrestling yourself?" I 
asked him. He shook his head, and I took off my blouse. Now he could see 
my heavy-set body.  "I'm not going to be as good at this as Freya, 
because I don't know all the moves." I took off my panties. "I'll just 
have to rely on brute strength. I expect that'll be enough." "Freya" he 
said, nervously, looking at her "Help me". She folded her arms, and 
grinned at him. "Freya, you're supposed to protect me!" "Not against 
another Valkyrie, Johannes, don't be silly." I took his hand in mine, 
and kissed it. "I can make this easy, if you like," and I pulled him 
towards me. As his body came in contact with mine, I could feel him 
shaking like a leaf; he knew what Freya could do, and understood that I 
could do the same. His body was small and weak, like so many men. "I 
give up" he said. "Please." I put my arms round him and cuddled him. 
"That's a sensible boy, Johannes. Now here's what you're going to do." 

We changed the name of the company to Valkyrie Productions, and I told 
him to get rid of all the girls, except Freya, of course, and I told him 
that he'd also be making videos with Hilde. Forget all the pretend-
wrestling, from now on, everything would be the real thing. Don't worry 
about the problem of finding male opponents for the Valkyries, there are 
plenty of men who would even be willing to pay for the privilege of 
being beaten up by a woman. Once. "And," I said, "Not just wrestling. 
We're going to do boxing as well." And not just "foxy boxing" either, 
where two girls dance around pretending to hit each other. Proper mixed 
boxing, between a Valkyrie and a big strong man who would inevitably get 
hammered to a pulp. "Lots of claret," I said. "?" said Johannes. I put 
out a hand and gently tweaked his nose. "It flows from here, rich and 
red, and lots of people find it a turn-on." "Ung" said Johannes, so I 
let go his nose. "I've never boxed," objected Freya. I shook my head. 
"Well, it can't be difficult, lots of men do it. We'll get a 
professional to teach you the moves, and then it's just a matter of you 
hitting your opponent three times harder than he can hit you, and your 
body being three times as hard as his." Johannes made a small noise, and 
Freya and I looked at the wet patch in his trousers. I sighed. "New 
rule, Johannes. If you're going to come, you do it inside me or Freya. 
Next time, let us know to that's about to happen." I mean, a hard prick 
is a terrible thing to waste, there are so few of them. 

"The third kind of video, is going to be feats of strength. Lifting 
cars, bending iron bars, straightening horseshoes, that kind of thing. 
Freya and Hilde can do that, and maybe others. Because that video will 
offer a large financial inducement to anyone who can duplicate what they 
do." Johannes grinned. "There isn't a man alive as strong as Freya, the 
prize won't be claimed, the money is safe!" "Maybe not a man, Johannes. 
Maybe a woman." "Aaah!" said Freya. "Now I see!" I grinned at her. My 
scheme was far superior to her advertisement in the newspapers. The 
reward would be enough to be worth getting; the feats of strength hard 
enough to stop anyone except a Valkyrie. Men would rush to try to copy 
Freya's stunts, and fail, because men can't do what a real Valkyrie can 
do. But in trying to duplicate Freya's performance, they would generate 
publicity for the video, and for Valkyrie Productions, and therefore we 
would make plenty of sales. And if we were really lucky, one or more 
Valkyries would emerge to claim the prize, and we would have expanded 
our small circle. 

"And I'll export the videos world-wide," said Johannes. "I know some 
companies in Germany and France that specialise in strong-woman videos, 
wrestling mostly, but they'll go for this. Beka in Germany, and 
Fortefemme in France. And there are several American companies who would 
sell our videos, Globalmark and FemForce, so I'll do an English-language 
version in NTSC format, and we can ... ungh" I put my thumb and finger 
over his nose again. "Enough, Johannes. You know this business, that's 
why I want you to look after it for me while I'm in England. Freya will 
look after you, make sure you don't get into trouble." I put my hand on 
his trousers and unzipped his fly so that the wet patch was out of the 
way. "Do your best, Johannes, do your very best." I took his tiny penis 
in my hand, and it rapidly grew from tiny to small. I was just quick 
enough to put a tissue over him before he erupted again. There must be 
some men somewhere who have some self control, I've just never met them. 
Freya and I left him to tidy up the mess and make detailed plans, and 
went arm in arm back to the hotel. "All that has made me really hungry. 
What do you fancy for dinner, Freya?" She licked her lips. "Hassan" I 
nodded. "Mmmh, Hassan" 

Poor Hassan. He was used to looking after a couple of dozen harem 
ladies, not two voracious Valkyries. We took turns, one of us holding 
him gently but securely while the other wrapped herself round his tool 
and pulled an orgasm out of his mammoth testicles. He lasted quite well, 
did young Hassan, I'll give him that. But a few hours later it was 
midnight, and Freya and I were looking at each other across an 
unconscious Hassan, and talking about whether it would be too late to go 
out and get a take-away of some sort. And while we were out, maybe also 
pick up some food. "But where would be open that we could find ourselves 
a nice bit of trouser?" I asked. Freya bit her lower lip, thinking. "The 
Dancer's Arms" she said. "What's that?" "It's the bar where Hilde works, 
that's why it's called that. 

Even though it was past midnight, the Dancers Arms was still hopping. 
"There's Hilde" said Freya, pointing to a girl dancing on stage. She was 
about five foot six, heavily built, huge thighs, big arms, broad waist, 
blonde hair - I guess I don't really have to say any more than that she 
looked like Freya and like me - like a Valkyrie. She saw Freya and 
waved, Freya waved back, and we sat down at a table. I was about to 
order drinks when we were joined by a couple of trousers - "Hi, girls, 
all alone?" one of them leered at Freya, the other one tried to look 
down my blouse. So I pushed my shoulders back and smoothed it down over 
my waist, so he'd get a better view, and wiggled them from side to side 
slightly, so they just jiggled a bit. His mouth opened nicely, and he 
was just beginning to have a rather promising erection when Hilde 
arrived, and said something in Norwegian, and one of them scuttled off, 
but the other one started to argue. Hilde frowned, but before she could 
say anything, Freya leaned forward and her hand flashed out. I saw the 
glint of steel and thought she'd knifed him, but then I saw his tie 
flump on to the table, and I realised what she'd done. He went pale, his 
face was almost white. "That's what the knife's for, Diana." I thought 
about that. It's a nice little knife, and I'll wear it in my hair, but I 
don't think it's a good idea to castrate a man, even symbolically. They 
have enough trouble with their pricks as it is. 

"Hilde, this is Diana, Diana the Valkyrie. She's a Valkyrie from England." "I 
thought you looked like you might be. Welcome to Narvik. What brings you 
here?" She said all this in a thick Norwegian accent, which I'm not 
going to try to phoneticise. "What did you say to those guys, we were 
doing fine with them." Hilde looked round at them, and waved. "I told 
them that they should go bother someone else, or I'd put one hand on 
each of their genitals and squeeze. I'm sorry, I didn't realise you 
actually wanted them." "Not especially, but we did actually come here to 
pick up a fuck-bunny or two." Freya said "Diana's got this guy, his 
name's Hassan, he's got balls like grapefruit ..." "Don't exaggerate, 
Freya, they're only as big as peaches." "Yes, well, he goes like a Roman 
Candle, but he ran out of oomph, and we wanted to see if there was 
anything worth picking up here." 

Hilde looked round the room. "Well, any of these guys, really. None of 
them are what you'd call heavy fuckers, but you'd get a couple of screws 
out of any of them before they pegged out." I looked round the room. 
They looked a sorry bunch. "Tell you what, I'm about to do a song and 
dance. Do you want to make it a triple act?" Now that sounded like fun, 
so I agreed immediately, and Hilde and I convinced Freya. "What song?" I 
asked. "It's my favourite song." said Hilde, "It's called Strong Woman." 
And she explained the words, the dance and the actions. "We won't be 
very good, we've never rehearsed" objected Freya. "Don't worry, they'll 
be too busy wanking, they won't notice" replied Hilde. "Don't they get 
hurt?" I asked. I hate hurting men. "No, they love it, they come back 
for more." "Oh. OK then." 

The three of us got up on stage, Hilde signalled to someone, and the 
music started. Here's the words, I'll explain the dance and the actions 
in a minute. 

If I want to screw, I can fuck all night 
If you do what I say, you'll be all right 
If I let you inside, you'll find my cunt's too tight 
If I let you come, you'll be out of sight 

I'm a Strong Woman, and I can't be beat
I'm a Strong Woman, and you're just meat 

To smash a man, takes just one blow 
When you're in my hands, you can't say "No" 
If I tell you to, you'll lick my toes 
But when I hold your dick, watch as it grows 

I'm a Strong Woman, touch me if you can 
I'm a Strong Woman, and you're just a man 

See my biceps, my thighs, my charms 
I can break your legs, I can break your arms, 
I can fuck till you're hot, or cold, or warm 
And if I like you a lot, I'll keep you from harm 

I'm a Strong Woman, you've had nothing like me 
I'm a Strong Woman, and one day, maybe ... 


Sang isn't quite the word. The CD had voice on the sound track, someone 
singing quite well, but Hilde, Freya and I mostly belted out the words. 
I have to say, it brought the house down. Plus we danced. Maybe danced 
isn't quite the word. It was high kicks showing off our legs, and crude, 
threatening gestures with clenched fists. We encouraged men from the 
audience to come and join us on stage, and each time one of them did, 
one of us Valkyries would pick him up bodily and throw him over the 
heads of the audience, who would do their best to try to break his fall, 
and mostly they succeeded. By the time the number was over, the audience 
was yelling itself hoarse, there were a couple of bodies on the floor 
that didn't look like they would be getting up very soon, and I saw 
several wet patches on trouser fronts, which is always a good sign that 
a man is enjoying himself. 

At the end of the song, I held up my hands for silence, then said "Are 
there any sailors here been at sea for a month or more without any sex?" 
A few hands went up, and I chose the nicest looking of them that didn't 
have wet trousers, and took him back to the hotel. I don't know what 
Freya and Hilde did. 

Next morning, when I woke up, he was still there in bed with me, on my 
left, fast asleep like men so often are. Sven must have woke up in the 
middle of the night and felt lonely, he was cuddled up to me on my 
right. But Hassan had got the best position, he was actually lying on 
top of me, and he woke up when I moved. "Good morning, Hassan" I 
whispered, not wanting to wake the other two. He licked my left nipple 
as an answer, and I slipped my hand down between his legs. Good old 
faithful Hassan was ready for action, and I wasn't going to disappoint 
him. Unfortunately, our fucking woke the other two up. Even more 
unfortunately, neither of them felt up to scratch this morning, 
something about too much sex last night. 

Well, it was my last day in Narvik, so I packed my bags and told Hassan 
to follow me. I just left the other two in bed; by the time I was ready 
to leave, they'd snuggled up to each other, and I giggled, thinking 
about what they'd think when they woke up. So I left them a note, well, 
one note each, the usual thing, full of how great they'd been in bed, 
and how sad I was to have to leave them, and how I hoped they'd remember 
me fondly, and here's a bent six inch nail as a souvenir of the night 
they'd spent being fucked by a strong woman. 

At the airport, I bought a one way ticket for Hassan, and at Heathrow, I 
said he was a friend of mine, just visiting. The travelling took us all 
day, and by the time we got back to my place, it was evening, and we 
were both quite tired. Hassan offered to carry the bags, bless him, but 
I gave him a kiss and told him not to be so silly, he should save his 
strength for the one thing I wanted from him, and the sweet boy put his 
hands on my blouse and rubbed my breasts, which perked them (and me) up 
no end, and when I got home, I didn't bother to unpack, I just stripped 
Hassan and spent the next three hours slowly and delicately emptying 
those lovely big soft testicles via that lovely big hard prick. 

Next morning, Freya phoned me from Narvik to ask if I'd got home all 
right, and how my sailor had been. "Not as good as Hassan" I said, and 
he moaned slightly, his face muffled by my belly. "How about you?" Freya 
had copied me, and taken some randy sailor home and given him the 
surprise of his life, and then surprised him several more times. 
"They're always so amazed when I take the lead" she said. "But they 
stop struggling after a few minutes." I stroked the back of Hassan's 
head. Hassan hadn't struggled even the first time. "Stay in touch, 
Freya." 

I read everything I could find about Valkyries, which wasn't much. But 
one thing was clear; this was my heritage. I went to a performance of  
Wagner's "The Ring", and I didn't think much of it, Siegfried is such a 
wimp, but I liked Brunnhilde, I could identify with her. Sex mad and 
randy as a goat, Brunnhilde. Strong, blonde and sexy, Brunnhilde. And 
the music, I loved the music, so strong and dramatic. 

Valkyries ride winged horses, and I quite fancied that. My Morgan is a 
lovely car, with bags of class, but to ride a Pegasus would be 
wonderful. So I did the next best thing. No, it isn't a good idea to 
keep a horse in the middle of London. But the modern equivalent of a 
winged horse is a motorbike. I went shopping for a big, powerful 
motorbike, hot and throbbing between my legs. And guess what? Honda make 
a 1500 cc model called a Valkyrie, and I just had to buy that, in 
flaming red, top speed 160 mph. And I had to buy a helmet of course, 
just like a real Valkyrie. Of course, you can't ride through London 
carrying a spear, you'd get arrested, and heaven knows what they'd 
charge me with after they found I was also carrying a whip and a razor-
sharp dagger in my hair. But the principal weapon of a modern Valkyrie 
isn't a spear anyway, or a sword. 

It's a portable phone. 




Diana the Valkyrie 
Email me at valkyrie@thevalkyrie.com
Or via alt.amazon-women.admirers