Welcome to Saturday Spankings. This week a few from THE VIKING'S CAPTIVE, out now and available for FREE on Kindle Unlimited.
“No, no, don’t take her,” the older female who’d shared her blanket with his slave shouted. “Leave her be, you brute.”
Halvor ignored her. She wasn’t worth the energy arguing with and was a fool to think he’d do her bidding.
“Get off me.” Small fingers tried to peel at his hand.
He increased his hold and dragged his slave past the Jarl’s wares being unloaded, and headed down the pier.
The sun was shining and he breathed deep, appreciating the scents of home.
“I said get off me.” The wench yanked and struggled. “You savage,” she said, clawing at him.
He’d had enough.
Turning, he dragged her close and slapped his palm onto her lower back, pressing her to his body.
Her eyes widened as her chest shoved up against his and she gripped his tunic.
She was so tiny and delicate, it took him virtually no effort to move her where he wanted her. For a moment he thought of her slender limbs and pale skin hidden beneath the rags she likely called clothes. Of her young breasts and the shape of her ass... the warm tightness that sat between her thighs.
“How old are you, wench?”
“What do you care?”
“Because I do.” He frowned and resisted sliding his hand to her ass. If she was too young, he should perhaps send her to live elsewhere for a few years. One of his friends, maybe, who had a woman in the house to teach his slave her tasks.
She pursed her lips, almost a pout.
“Tell me.” Had he not been holding the pelts, he’d have clasped her chin and shook the number from her.
“I am twenty-one summers.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Twenty-one summers and an unmarried maiden.”
“I had a bad time. Not that a man like you would understand.”
“And what kind of man is that?” He adored the spark in her tone, the challenge in her eyes. He’d like to spank it out of her. Have her apologizing to him, on her knees, begging for forgiveness.
I will have that. I will have this woman submitting to me. She will come to know I am her master and she will desire to please me.
“You’re a man who is an evil monster, no care for anyone but himself.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, for this evil monster does care.” He lowered his face to hers. “I care that you are fed, have shelter, and are unmolested or murdered by other Vikings.”
“How kind.” She looked away and tipped her chin. “I guess I should feel lucky to have you.”
“Aye, you should.”