Tag Archive | Vikings

“You shall not raise your hand to me again, lady, lest you wish to find yourself upended across my lap and spanked.”

Ashe Barker is here with Her Celtic Captor

                                        Blurb:

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

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Read Chapter 1 for free

Excerpt 

“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.”

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Thanks for stopping by, Ashe 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He has her body. Will she give him her heart?

 

HER ROGUE VIKING

by Ashe Barker

Blurb

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.

 Buy Links 

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 Read Chapter 1 for free

 

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.

“Three. Four.”

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:

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Captured, Captivated, but who’s conquering who?

Felicity Brandon

Stormy Night Publications

Description: Historical, BDSM, spanking romance

Approximately 91,500 words

HEA Ending

the-viking_s-conquestBlurb:

When she is left all but alone to defend her family’s castle against an army of battle-hardened Viking raiders, nineteen-year-old Princess Aurelie of Donrose fights valiantly but is soon overcome. After her capture by the tall, handsome leader of the northmen, Prince Anders, she is carried away along with the rest of the spoils of conquest.

Anders makes it clear to the princess that she is now his property, to do with as he likes, and he takes pleasure in stripping her bare and putting her on display. When she defies her new master, Aurelie quickly discovers that Anders will not hesitate to spank her soundly, but to her shame the painful, humiliating punishment leaves her deeply aroused.

Bound and helpless yet burning with desire, the princess finds herself longing for the bold, dominant warrior to take her hard and thoroughly, and when she surrenders to his mastery of her body the pleasure is more intense than she would have ever thought possible. Aurelie’s submission to Anders grows more complete with each passing day, but when her brothers arrive with an army to seek vengeance against their old enemy she must make a fateful choice. Will she remain loyal to her family and her people, or come to the aid of her Viking prince?

Publisher’s Note: The Viking’s Conquest includes spankings, sexual scenes and sexual humiliation, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Author’s Synopsis:

War has come to Donrose, and with her men away, Princess Aurelie is left to defend her castle from the impending northern invasion. Vastly outnumbered and overpowered, brave Aurelie is soon captured and finds herself the new prize of Anders, Prince of the Vikings. Uncertain of her captor, and frustrated by her imprisonment, Aurelie is confused by her burgeoning desires for the towering Anders, but when he puts the maiden over his knee to punish her, her thirst for him threatens to spill over… How can a lady of such high position entertain the idea of a spanking, yet alone be excited by it? Bound, used and displayed, Aurelie’s journey of self-discovery begins as she learns her surrender delivers not only humiliation, but also great arousal and pleasure. With her yearning fit to burst, she yields to her new master, utterly compelled by his dominant affections. But then, all at once – everything changes… And now Aurelie of Donrose must make the ultimate choice and one that she never thought possible. With Anders’ life hanging in the balance, will she choose her family’s lands or her new found love?

piccs

Excerpt 1: first meeting 

“Now we are alone—finally.” Those eyes drill into me again. “Tell me, my lady, who are you really?”

I flex my fingers in front of me and move my head, boldly meeting his gaze. “I am Aurelie of Donrose, the king’s only daughter and certainly not your lady.”

That wry smile cuts across his features again. “I thought you may say that, and yet you find yourself here, tied up on my floor and so, I rather think that you are mine?”

“I know not who you are,” I say in the most derisory way I can muster, “and yet I promise you that I belong to no man of the north!”

He exhales, shifting his weight in the chair to lean against his right elbow. His big blue eyes never leave me, eying me with an intensity I have never felt before.

I push myself upright—not as easy as you’d think without the proper use of your hands. Sudden pain ricochets down my left side and I squeeze my eyes shut. The sound of his movement makes them fly open again and I recoil as I see how close he now is to my seated position.

“You’re in pain, my lady?”

There’s genuine concern etched across his face and for the first time I acknowledge just what a handsome face it is. His hair is the colour of dark sand, but lighter than any I’d find on a shore of Donrose. His skin is paler than my own and that of my kin and yet I can see the years of experience worn into his forehead and those high cheekbones. His chin is covered in long, dark blond hair, and then there are those eyes… They are the colour of the deepest oceans I have read fables about, and they swim with dark intensity.

I take a deep breath, aware suddenly that I have been gaping at him this whole time. “I was hurt in battle,” I whisper, barely able to sustain eye contact with him.

He nods, rising from his crouched position and extends a muscular arm down toward me. Slowly and tentatively I meet his hand, making skin contact with him with my bound wrists. As the back of my hand brushes against him, we make eye contact again and an inexplicable shiver rushes down my spine.

“Let my servants attend to your injuries…”

I’m not sure if this is a question or a command, but his tone is almost hypnotic, trying to quash my defiance and make me compliant. I stand up next to him, fighting the urge to choose an easy life and allow his devilish façade to overawe me. It would, I realise, be all too easy to just stop fighting and consent for him to take care of me.

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Felicity Brandon: Writer of the salacious, erotic & romantic. Golden Flogger Finalist!
BDSM, spanking, & submission.

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