BY
ASHE BARKER
Abducted. Humbled. Claimed.
Check out Ashe Barker's newest title-you won't be sorry! Thanks for sharing, Ashe.
·
Stormy
Night, 2017
·
Released 2
April 2017
·
Historical
erotic romance, Viking romance
·
Approximately 76,000 words
·
HEA
ending
#eroticromance
#ashebarker #discipline #dominance #spanking #Vikingromance #Vikings
#historicalromance
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
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
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:
Or you
can email her direct on ashe.barker1@gmail.com
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