It’s Stormy Night Publications 5th anniversary and to celebrate SNP is saying ‘Thanks’ to their loyal readers by offering up some FREE books. Just click on the link below and have a blast! There’s over 40 books to choose from. YAY!!
It’s Stormy Night Publications 5th anniversary and to celebrate SNP is saying ‘Thanks’ to their loyal readers by offering up some FREE books. Just click on the link below and have a blast! There’s over 40 books to choose from. YAY!!
Ashe Barker is here with Her Celtic Captor
As the sister of a powerful Viking chief, Brynhild Freysson is used to giving orders and having them obeyed, which makes it all the more difficult to accept when she suddenly finds herself at the mercy of a Celtic warrior intent on bringing her back to his village whether she likes it or not.
Taranc was a leader of his people before he was taken captive by Viking raiders, and now that he is a free man once more he has no intention of allowing a headstrong Norse woman to slow down his journey home with her stubborn disobedience. When Brynhild refuses to do as she is told, he wastes no time in baring her bottom for a thorough switching, and he makes it quite clear that she can expect even more painful and humiliating punishments if she continues to defy him.
Though her hatred of the Celts runs deep, Taranc’s stern dominance awakens desires in Brynhild that she thought she would never feel again, and when he takes her in his arms and claims her properly it is more pleasurable than she would have thought possible. But though her passion for him grows by the day, can she ever truly love a man whose people are enemies of her own?
Publisher’s Note: Her Celtic Captor is a stand-alone sequel to Her Rogue Viking and Her Dark Viking. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book
“Gather kindling and load the fire pits. Get on with it. Do you think your fire will light itself, perhaps?”
Taranc spun in surprise at the haughty female voice behind him, and almost swallowed his tongue. The tall, blonde woman who approached across the meadow beside a loaded barrow and flanked by two young thralls was nothing short of stunning. She fought to keep a crate of squawking poultry balanced on top of what appeared to be a pile of blankets, her waist-length plaited hair shining in the early afternoon sunlight. If he had ever beheld a vision more beautiful he could not recall it, and Taranc was a man normally possessed of an excellent memory.
He stepped forward to catch the crate before it tumbled to the ground. It would be a pity if those birds were to escape after all the trouble this trio had gone to in order to drag the clucking fowls all the way over here. He lowered it to the grass and peered through the slats at the irate chickens within. Could this be their supper, perhaps?
“Light fires.” The Viking woman cast her gaze about the sorry crowd, clearly irritated by their inactivity. “You will need to cook, to keep warm. Here is firewood.” The woman gestured at the pile of logs. “I shall send bread…”
“Thank you.” Taranc offered the woman a polite bow. “We would appreciate that.”
She fixed him with a cold stare. “And I would appreciate it if you would set your quarters to rights. Here are blankets, since it will be cold later. You will find kindling hereabouts if you seek it.” She glowered at him, her jaw clenching. “Move. You have not been brought here in order that you may sit about taking your ease the entire day.”
She might be lovely to look at, but the woman was sorely lacking in compassion, concluded Taranc. She had eyes in her head, a perfectly delightful shade of pale blue, he noted. Could she not see the state his people were in? She was seemingly as misguided at Dagr.
“Lady, we have walked for two days, had almost nothing to eat and no rest. We are tired and hungry, and can do no more this day. We thank you for the firewood and the food you have provided, and as soon as a few of us have our breath back we will do as you suggest. But once the fires are lit, I believe it is fair to say we will be taking our ease the rest of this fine afternoon.”
Her expression was a delightful mix of outrage and incredulity. Her lovely mouth worked though she appeared at a loss for words. Dagr, too, seemed near enough ready to explode and his whip was already curling in the air. Taranc had had enough and stepped forward to disarm the man, then tossed the weapon to the ground. He was at once surrounded by Viking warriors, their swords drawn.
The Viking woman stepped forward and slapped the man closest to her on the shoulder. “Stop, all of you. Are you quite mad? My brother did not have these slaves brought here only for you dolts to slaughter his workers before so much as one stone has been laid. Our granary requires live thralls to build it.”
“Lady, this does not concern you,” intoned the arrogant Dagr as he retrieved his whip. “I shall deal with the slaves, and—”
“All at Skarthveit concerns me,” corrected the vision of loveliness. The venom in her tone did not escape Taranc, even if Dagr seemed oblivious. “And you,” she turned her attention to Taranc, “you will do as I ask. Now.”
Taranc might lust after the Viking noblewoman, he was a male and drew breath so how could he not? But he did not like her, and he had never yet fucked a woman he disliked.
“Allow me to be plain since I wish there to be no misunderstanding between us. You are coming with me. You will be silent, and you will be co-operative. If you cause me no problems we shall get along quite well, but I will tolerate no disobedience from you. You have been warned. Further attempts to thwart me will result in you being punished, and a decent switching will be just the start of it. Do not test me on this, Brynhild. You will regret it.”
“If you require a demonstration of my power over you I shall be delighted to oblige you. A few strokes of my belt should do the job.”
“You and I find ourselves thrown together by circumstances. I do not know how long we shall be in one another’s company, but I expect it to be a while. Your obedience and submission are vital, to my safety, and did you but know it, to yours also. If you cross me, I shall punish you, and then the matter will be closed. A spanking puts an end to the matter.”
“I would wed you in a heartbeat, my lovely Viking, but I fear we would spend the rest of our lives tearing each other apart.”
Thanks for stopping by, Ashe 🙂
The part I love the most about writing a romance is the dialogue (banter) between the hero and heroine.
In my newest release, ‘Her Alpha Cowboy’, I wanted my hero to be a bit domineering but also likeable. I added a sense of humor to his character and a fierce protectiveness toward the people he loved. Yes, I made Logan West sound crude at times, but I would have written him much differently if my heroine, Josephine didn’t like it. Oh, she tried to hide her feelings for Logan, but the infuriating cowboy was determined to wear her down. When Josephine feels her virtue has been compromised, Logan offers to marry her. Even though they would be sharing the same bed, she makes him promise that the marriage would be in name only.
All and all, Josephine is an innocent and her questions about sex are driving Logan crazy, but he manages to keep his hands to himself 🙂
I hope you enjoy reading about their first night as man and wife.
Josephine sat on a small bench in the washroom and took off her pumps. She wiggled her toes. It was hard to believe she was now a married woman. Ella and Brody left shortly after the cake had been cut and it had been up to her and Logan to see to the guests. Once the guests left, Josephine began to clean up, but Logan insisted she let things go until the morning. Josephine readily agreed. It had been a long day. Yawning, she reached behind her head and fumbled with the row of hooks.
“You need any help taking off that dress?” Logan hollered from the bedroom.
“No, I do not,” she shouted back. Wicked man. She reached again and ended up with sore arms and loss of patience. Drat. There had to be close to a dozen hooks running down the back and Ella wasn’t available to help.
“I heard that, little girl. Must Daddy come in there and wash your mouth out with soap?”
Josephine stomped her foot. Aggravating lout. “No, Daddy doesn’t have to come in here and wash my mouth out with soap,” she mimicked sarcastically and went back to fumbling with the hooks. She twisted this way and that. It was no use. She’d either ask him for his assistance or sleep in the dress.
“Um, Logan, can you help me get out of this dress?”
No sooner had the words left her mouth when he appeared in the doorway naked as the day he was born. She gasped and covered her eyes, but not before she saw his manhood.
“Sorry, I forgot to tell you I sleep in the nude.”
Josephine choked out a reply and presented her back while keeping her arms at her sides. She only knew a little about mating, like where what on a man went where in a woman. But, was it even possible to accommodate his rather impressive organ?
Logan’s blunt fingers grazed her skin as he tended to his task. The last few hooks were just above her tailbone and she held her breath. Would he try to pat her ass?
“There you go.”
The feather-light kiss he dropped on the back of her neck sent goosebumps up and down her arms and legs. “May I be of any more assistance, ma’am?”
“Um, no, that’s quite all right.”
He bowed and turned away. She frowned. No pat on the ass this time so she let her gaze wander over his taut buttocks then averted her eyes when he climbed into bed. She cupped her hot face with icy cold hands. Her husband was certainly well endowed.
Josephine dallied in the washroom as long as she dared and finally dimmed the light. Logan lay on the bed watching her thoughtfully as she padded barefoot across the room. She swallowed hard when she realized that the blanket they’d be sharing barely covered the lower portion of his body. How in the world was she going to lift that blanket and pretend not see what he had hidden under there?
A narrow dusting of hair trailed from his navel and widened to cover his chest. His hands were clasped behind his head. Josephine swore she had never seen a man more handsome and muscular. He exuded pure strength and power.
She stood beside the bed. Logan tossed the covers aside. “Come and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
Josephine dove under the covers and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
Logan rolled on his side, facing the opposite direction. “You’re going to roast under there.”
With her arms pressed at her sides, Josephine stared up at the ceiling. Sure enough, beads of sweat started to form between her breasts. Slowly, she peeled back the covers and turned her head to look at Logan.
“Logan, are you awake?”
“Something’s bothering me.”
“What is it?”
“It’s about the size of your, um, you know, what I saw when you came into the washroom.”
“You mean my cock?”
She clicked her tongue. “Why must you talk so…”
“Filthy? Blunt? Can’t help it. Dirty thoughts fill my head when you’re around.” He blew out a breath. “Sorry. I’ll be as delicate as I can. What is it you want to know?”
“How can it fit without hurting?”
He turned over onto his back and regarded her with a wicked grin. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Well, then let me see how I can explain this without being too crass. It’s very important that a man prepares a woman for, ah, penetration. He can touch her breasts or suckle her nipples.” He stopped talking and Josephine propped on one elbow.
“Are you okay? Your voice sounds gravelly.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”
“What exactly does prepare mean, Logan?”
“You’re killin’ me, you know that?” He rubbed a hand down his face. “When a woman is ready to accept a man, her body gets wet down there so it doesn’t hurt so much.”
“Down there.” Josephine licked her lips. “You mean here?” She touched herself between her legs.
Logan swore. “Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t get mad. I need to know these things for when I, you know, do it.”
He remained silent.
“It’s not fair that a man can enjoy the act and the woman suffers.”
“As far as I know it only hurts the first time. There are other ways for a man to pleasure a woman without putting his cock inside her.”
Josephine scrunched her nose. “I don’t see how.”
“Trust me, there is.”
She couldn’t argue his prowess. A man such as Logan must’ve had plenty of women share his bed. Blondes, brunettes, and redheads. Just the thought of his rough hands running over their bodies and bringing them to climax left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Are there other ways for a man to be pleasured without putting his organ inside a woman?”
A low growl erupted from his side of the bed. Josephine chewed her bottom lip. Maybe it’d be better if she just went to sleep.
“A woman can bring a man to pleasure by taking his co… I mean, organ into her mouth.”
It took a minute for Josephine to digest that information. “That’s…”
“Filthy,” he finished for her again and shook his head. “Josephine, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasures of the flesh as long as it’s consensual between two people.”
“But ladies aren’t supposed to enjoy it. It’s their duty to lie beneath their husbands and bear them children.”
Logan snorted. “And that kind of thinkin’ is why some married men go to the saloon looking for a whore. A whore will do things that a genteel lady was taught not to do probably because some uptight old biddy deemed it wrong.”
“But aren’t the men just as wrong being in the saloon when they have a wife at home?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t seem to matter to some.”
“Have you ever been with a married woman?”
“No,” he replied vehemently. “I don’t mess with married women.”
Josephine rolled onto her back. “Have you ever been with the Red lady?”
“What Red lady?”
“The one who works at the saloon.”
Logan bolted to a sitting position. “How the hell did you hear about her?”
“The men in the bunkhouse told me. Jake said she’d straighten me out and teach me a few things.”
He fell back on the bed. “Remind me to fire Jake in the morning.”
“It’s not his fault, Logan. He thought I was a boy.” She got a growl in reply. “And you’re not going to fire anybody. Night, Logan.”
A couple of minutes passed. “Logan?”
“Thanks for explaining things to me and just so you know, you were very gentleman-like.”
“I’m awfully thrilled to hear it.”
Thanks for stopping by. ‘Her Alpha Cowboy’ is available on Amazon, Barnes and Nobels and Kobo :)
Amazon UK http://amzn.eu/aTc2tYC
His Firm Direction
by Alexis Alvarez
Amazon US: http://a.co/c0SszgB
Amazon UK: http://amzn.eu/gJuejNH
When she is offered the lead role in a bold, controversial new play by Axel Masters, the hottest off-Broadway director in the country, twenty-seven-year-old actress Cleo Martinelli is delighted. As rehearsals get underway, however, she finds herself having trouble getting into the mindset of her character, a woman whose firm-handed husband spanks her when she is disobedient.
After Cleo’s difficulty playing her part convincingly leads to a public confrontation with Axel, she worries that she will be fired, but instead the handsome director calls her into his office, scolds her for her petulant attitude, and then suggests that she is in desperate need of the kind of stern correction the character she is struggling to play receives from her fictional husband.
To her surprise, being reprimanded like a naughty girl proves to be intensely arousing for Cleo, and soon enough she is lying over Axel’s lap with her bare bottom exposed for a thorough spanking. His bold dominance leaves her begging to be taken long and hard, and a passionate romance quickly blossoms between them.
Cleo’s new understanding of what it means to submit to a man’s strict discipline pays off on stage, but as the positive reviews pour in she cannot help wondering what will happen to their relationship after the curtain falls on the last showing of the play. Is Axel truly in love with her, or does he see her as nothing more than an actress in need of his firm direction?
Publisher’s Note: His Firm Direction includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
“Sorry, Cleo.” His voice held remorse and resolve. “This is supposed to be punishment, so no more rubbing until it’s over. It’s time for those extras you earned… the ones with the belt. Don’t touch your ass.”
Adrenaline swirled through her body and she swiveled to look at his face.
“Watch what I’m doing, Cleo,” he ordered, shifting her so she was sitting on the couch.
“Ow! My butt is already sore,” she complained, but at a stern look from him, she stayed seated, although she shifted uncomfortably on the rough fabric, which made the stinging more prominent.
“No, please,” she begged, anxiety flooding her, as he deliberately held her eyes, pulling the belt from the loops with a soft swish. He folded it over and slapped it into his palm, and she jumped. “God! Axel.”
“Sir.” He nodded his chin at her. “In just a second, you’re going to get up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. Keep your thighs spread wide. You’re getting ten hard ones with the belt. After that, I think you’ll be properly contrite.”
“Twelve. I suggest you stop arguing, Cleo, if you don’t want the count to go higher.” He took the panties from his pocket and tossed them to her; startled, she caught them. “Slide these back on, but only up to your thighs. Now.”
“Because I like the way it looks.”
Alexis Alvarez is an author, photographer, and digital designer who loves writing steamy romances. Her female heroines are always strong, intelligent women who fall for the sexiest guy around…and get the happy-ever-after ending of their dreams.
Alexis is a wife and mom, a former chemical engineer, a dachshund-whisperer — wait, that’s a lie. The dachshund usually does the exact opposite of what he’s told.
Do you like contemporary romance? Darker BDSM/erotica novels? Alexis has you covered. She writes in both genres.
You can usually find Alexis hanging out with her family or her sisters, who are also romance writers, at their website, Graffiti Fiction. The three of them love to drink wine together and laugh like hyenas while making dirty jokes and really inappropriate comments. Their mom is very proud.
One really cool thing about Alexis is that she’s a friendly author who loves meeting new people on Facebook. Please come on by and say hello. Thanks, and happy reading!
Reader’s Group on Facebook – you will LOVE this fun, awesome, inappropriate place! Please join today. XOXO https://www.facebook.com/groups/295997897414263/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Alexis-Alvarez/e/B0107LJQEM
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/AlexisAlvarezAuthor/
‘Her Alpha Cowboy’
Amazon UK http://amzn.eu/aTc2tYC
When she is caught stealing from the mercantile in a small Texas town, eighteen-year-old orphan Josephine Bolton faces the prospect of a jail sentence, but she is saved by the intervention of a local rancher who mistakes her for a boy and convinces the sheriff that some hard, honest work would be better for “Joe” than being brought before a judge and jury.
Logan West has even less patience for lying than he does for thieving, and when he discovers that he has unwittingly brought a beautiful young woman back to his ranch he puts Josephine over his knee, bares her bottom, and spanks her soundly for her deception.
Despite her best efforts to ignore her attraction to Logan, the stern punishment leaves Josephine longing for the gruff, handsome cowboy to take her in his arms and claim her properly, and when he asks her to marry him she agrees. But after their wedding, Josephine cannot help wondering whether Logan proposed to her merely to keep up appearances. When she decides to run away again, will her firm-handed husband come looking for his naughty wife and bring her home?
Publisher’s Note: Her Alpha Cowboy includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Shortly after Logan pays for the items Josephine had stolen and takes her to his ranch, she makes another attempt to escape.
Josephine smiled. The fact that the world stood before her was both daunting and exciting at the same time. A warm breeze caressed her face and she let go of her worries, but only for a moment. The rumble of pounding hooves echoing from behind snapped her back to reality. She reined in the mare and shifted in the saddle just in time to see a man with broad shoulders gaining on her. Here we go again.
“Okay, mare, it’s time to hightail it out of here. Be a good horsey now.” She tapped the animal’s sides and off they went. A sharp, piercing whistle split the air and the mare immediately slowed to a trot then stopped altogether.
“No, no, please don’t stop.” Josephine coaxed and pleaded, but the animal wouldn’t budge. Damn.
As soon as Josephine slipped to the ground, the mare took off in the direction of the ranch. “Traitor,” she mumbled and broke into a run. If she could reach the distant tree line she could hide.
Suddenly her feet were peddling nothing but air. Her belly hit the saddle with such force it knocked the wind out of her.
“Let me go.”
“No way, you little horse thief.”
Horse thief? This was it. In no time she’d be decorating a cottonwood for sure.
Josephine’s life flashed before her eyes. “Are you going to hang me?” Her stomach rolled. She imagined her body dangling from a tree and vultures picking apart her dead carcass.
“No, Joe, I won’t hang you. Once I find a nice sturdy log you’re going over my knee for a bare bottom spanking.”
“Like hell I am!” A complete stranger looking at her ass? No way. She’d throw herself from the horse before she’d let him spank her. With a burst of adrenaline she wriggled and writhed.
“That’s enough.” The whack to her backside shocked her and she went still, giving Logan time to rein in the big horse and drop to the ground. He plucked her from the saddle.
“Put me down!”
Pinning her to his side once again, he carried her to a fallen log.
Josephine’s eyes widened. This was truly happening. He intended to spank her. Out in the open. Right now. She slapped at his legs.
“No, no, you can’t do this.”
“You deserve this, Joe, and you know it. You’re in dire need of a bare bottom whipping and I aim to see it done.” He sat down and tossed her over his lap.
Realizing that her virtue was about to go up in smoke along with her behind if she didn’t stop him, she sank her teeth into the back of his leg. Logan yowled, but didn’t loosen his hold.
“Please don’t do this, I swear you’ll regret it.”
Her wrists were caught and secured at her lower back. “Regret it? Not on your life. You just bit me, you little shit.”
Josephine giggled hysterically. Dear heavens, she was losing her sanity.
“You think it’s funny?”
* * *
Furious, Logan yanked down her pants. When he got a closer look at his intended target, blood rushed to his cock. These pale rounded cheeks and pink flesh in between did not belong to a boy. Damn! Joe was a dang female. This deliberate transgression was far worse than lying about her age.
Even though his hand itched to throw caution to the wind and deliver what he’d promised, Logan tempered his anger.
As fast as her pants had been peeled to her ankles, he pulled them back up as far as he could and pushed her off his lap. The brat let out a startled squeak and sat in the dirt with her legs spread. Logan caught a glimpse of blonde curls before she scrambled to her feet and hid the captivating view.
“You are a brute.” Her chest heaved with each breath.
Logan’s gaze dropped to her chest. Nothing to see. The bulky shirt hid the size of her bosoms. Big tits or small, he didn’t care. A nicely rounded spankable ass was more to his tastes.
She certainly looked ready for a fight. Fists clenched tight, eyes snapping blue fire. Matching him stare for stare. Lust slammed him in the gut. The thought of her kneeling on all fours with that ass high in the air while he fucked her from behind made him break out in a sweat. He shook his head vigorously. No use. The tempting image remained.
Logan slowly got to his feet. He regarded the impudent young lady standing a few yards away from him and couldn’t decide whether to throttle her or kiss that luscious pink mouth.
Christ, three times in one day he had tackled her to the ground believing he’d been putting his hands on a wet-behind-the-ears young boy. Never before had he manhandled a female in such callous disregard. His father would have taken a stick to him.
Logan propped one booted foot on the log and crossed both arms over his knee. “I may be a bully, but you, little girl, are a brat. You have no idea how much trouble you’re in, do you?”
She tossed back her head, refusing to answer.
“But first you’re going to tell me why you felt the need to disguise yourself as a boy.”
Her chin tilted in defiance. In a way she reminded him of Ella when she got in a mood, but the current dilemma in his pants had nothing to do with brotherly love. Joe was not his sister and his cock had reacted instantly to her charms.
“You got a pretty ass, Joe,” he snarled.
Twenty-three-year-old Kelly Regan didn’t expect much excitement when she took a job as a curator at a historic estate, but upon encountering a beautiful, mysteriously powerful mirror she suddenly finds herself transported back to the Victorian era.
Kelly is intrigued by the estate’s owner, the handsome bachelor Sir Henry Yarlswood, and in order to learn more about life in his household she impersonates another woman and obtains a position as his maid. But Henry is not a man who tolerates dishonestly from his staff, and after her deception is discovered Kelly’s bottom is bared for a painful, embarrassing spanking.
The stern punishment only increases Kelly’s desire to know more about her handsome employer, but after she is caught snooping through his personal effects she soon finds herself stripped naked for an even more shameful chastisement. Despite her sore bottom, however, she is deeply aroused by Henry’s firm-handed dominance, and when he claims her properly his masterful lovemaking leaves her spent and satisfied. But will their blossoming romance be enough to keep her by his side, even if it means leaving her old life behind forever?
Publisher’s Note: A Strict Gentleman includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Excerpt 1 (18+)
Henry paused and flexed the rod before swishing it through the air a few time. It was a horrible sound, unmistakable. Her fantasy scenario of moaning girls and probing dominants with frisky fingers was nothing like the strict application of Henry’s cane.
“I wish to know, young lady,” Henry said as he continued to swish the cane through the air, “have you taken anything from this room?”
Taken? She’d looked in his journal, but not taken it. “No, sir,” she gasped.
The cane struck with a resounding thud and she drummed the palms of her hand on the seat of the chair. “No, I haven’t,” she repeated.
“Please keep your head up, Kelly. The mirror is there for both our benefits.”
He noticed she liked to look at him and he was using it to observe her too. It was an odd moment of reassurance. If he could see her face, the tears, the pained expression, he must be judging whether she was coping or on the verge of collapse. Was Henry so cruel as to want her to faint? She doubted it. Nothing she’d read in his journal, assuming he accurately portrayed his activities, implied he sought a woman’s injury or committed harmful acts. The cane stung like crazy, but it wasn’t being wielded with force, only accuracy.
She raised her head and stared at him. He nodded, then to her amazement, he stepped toward her behind and with his forefinger traced the line of the cane.
Kelly gasped, not because it hurt or made the mark throb any harder, but because it was tender and curative. For a few seconds she was thrilled, excited, and perversely aroused by that delicate touch. Now she throbbed in a new spot; her little nub was aching to be noticed.
“Because I know,” he said, stepping back, “that taken objects can be returned to their correct location without being missed.” He cracked the cane swiftly against her bottom.
I’m an author of erotic D/s romances including Amazon bestsellers. All my books contain an element of BDSM, spankings or erotic games of sensual exploration. If you desire a little thrill, something to entice, then please take the time to read one of my books. Thank you!
When not writing, I’m busy spending time with her family, enjoying music, sometimes drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.
Thanks for stopping by, Jaye 🙂
HER ROGUE VIKING
by Ashe Barker
Though Fiona puts up a brave fight when her village is raided by Vikings, she ends up being carried off over the broad shoulders of Ulfric Freysson, the leader of the Norsemen. The stern, ruggedly handsome warrior quickly makes it clear that she belongs to him now, and her best efforts to escape merely earn Fiona a painful, humiliating switching on her bare bottom.
Her captor’s bold dominance sets Fiona’s passion ablaze, and when he brings her to his bed she cannot help begging for him to claim her completely. As Ulfric begins training her to please him in any way he demands, Fiona finds herself falling in love with her new master, but she soon realizes that there are those among his people who still see her as an enemy. When her life is threatened by a member of his own family, will he stand ready to protect her no matter the cost?
Publisher’s Note: Her Rogue Viking includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
Blog post Introduction
I have always been fascinated by Vikings. Strong, sexy warriors, ruthless, dominant and determined – what’s not to like? It was only a matter of time before I wove a story around these fierce raiders who rampaged through Scotland and England for over three centuries, eventually settling and leaving their indelible mark on our history.
A Viking raid was indeed a ferocious affair. They relied on what would nowadays probably be termed ‘shock and awe’ swooping in from the sea on their fast dragon ships to attack with vicious and deadly effect. The Nordic raiders would be gone almost as swiftly as they arrived, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The modern equivalent would be a helicopter attack on a sleepy rural village by SWAT teams armed with automatic weapons– the local people would hardly know what hit them.
I have employed a certain amount of poetic license, but I was determined to recreate the Viking era to the best of my ability – their homes, their clothing, what they ate, how they lived. I hope readers will be as entranced as I am by these creative and charismatic raiders, and perhaps forgive them their more outrageous little foibles.
Excerpt 2 (18+)
Ulfric carried her to the fallen tree and set her down beside it, taking care to allow her to lower her good leg first. Then, still ensuring that her weight remained on her uninjured foot, Ulfric helped Fiona to turn and face the trunk, then eased her torso forward until she was balanced across it. The furs and blanket provided a soft cushion. Fiona could find no reason to complain that her comfort was not considered as Ulfric patted her soon-to-be-punished bottom.
“I will lift you a little higher, to ensure that your feet are off the ground and taking no weight, and to offer me a better target, naturally.” He did not wait for any further comment from Fiona. In moments she was dangling over the tree trunk, her feet inches from the bare earth and her head and shoulders balancing her weight on the other side. The grass and a light dusting of fallen leaves were just inches from her nose but she could just make out their shapes in the gathering gloom as she quivered in this unfamiliar and vulnerable position.
Her father had been no disciplinarian. In all her nineteen summers no one had ever so much as slapped her wrist, let alone bent her over a fallen tree for a public switching. Fiona wondered if it was possible to die of humiliation.
She managed not to whimper as her skirts were raised above her waist, then tucked under the woven braid that served as a belt. Fiona was acutely aware of the half dozen or so Viking warriors who had gathered to observe the proceedings. They were all now afforded a fine view of her upturned, naked buttocks. She was glad she could not decipher the exact meaning of their calls and remarks, though the general gist was plain enough.
The jocularity ceased abruptly at a word from Ulfric. The men remained in place, watching, but they no longer offered their lewd observations.
Fiona was accustomed to harsh winters, but the bitter chill of this Nordic early evening was equal to anything she could recall in her own country. She shivered as the icy breeze caressed her bare backside and could not help clenching as Ulfric bent to select the first switch.
“Fear not, little wench. You shall soon be feeling a good deal warmer.” He swung the switch in an experimental arc, slow at first, then fast enough to produce an ominous whistle. Fiona shrieked.
Ulfric chuckled and moved in close. He laid the palm of his free hand on her bottom, the caress almost affectionate. “Try not to clench, though I realise it is difficult. Are you ready?”
There was nothing to be gained by delaying matters. Fiona nodded, then clenched her bound hands into fists as she tensed for the first stroke.
“Aagh!” She let out a shrill scream as fire exploded across her right buttock. Her entire body jerked with the force of the blow, though she had been expecting it. This hurt though, more than she had ever imagined.
“One,” Ulfric intoned. “Be still, Celt. Settle down and we shall continue.”
Somehow, through the haze of pain, she heard his words and managed to obey. Moments later fire snaked across her left cheek.
“Ooh!” Sweet Jesus, can I bear this?
“Two. Now relax, you do not wish to drag this out, I am sure.”
He was right, she did not. Fiona willed her tense muscles to soften and drew in a shuddering breath.
She was managing the pain just slightly better now, no longer so shocked by the intensity of sensation. She managed not to cry out, and needed no further reminders to keep her buttocks soft.
“That is good. Five. Six. Seven.”
Fiona writhed against the blanket. Despite her determination to bear this ordeal with fortitude she was unable to remain still, nor could she contain her tears that flowed unchecked across her face.
Ulfric paused to once again lay his palm over her throbbing backside. Her bottom was on fire and she flinched under his touch though he was not rough with her.
“You are doing well. Just three more to go. Shall I continue, Fiona?”
No! Enough! “Yes. Please, just finish this and let me get up.”
More about Ashe Barker
USA Today best-selling author Ashe Barker has been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. She still loves reading, the hotter the better. But now she has a good excuse for her guilty pleasure – research.
Ashe tends to draw on her own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to her plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.
Ashe lives in the North of England, on the edge of the Brontë moors and enjoys the occasional flirtation with pole dancing and drinking Earl Grey tea. When not writing – which is not very often these days – her time is divided between her role as taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, tortoises. And a very grumpy cockatiel.
At the last count Ashe had over forty titles on general release with publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, and several more in the pipeline. She writes M/f, M/M, and occasionally rings the changes with a little M/M/f. Ashe’s books invariably feature BDSM. She writes explicit stories, always hot, but offering far more than just sizzling sex. Ashe likes to read about complex characters, and to lose herself in compelling plots, so that’s what she writes too.
Ashe has a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keeps thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from her.
Ashe loves to hear from readers. Here are her social media links:
Or you can email her direct on firstname.lastname@example.org