Welcome to Saturday Spankings, this week a few from the VIKING'S CAPTIVE to heat up your day!
Halvor surveyed the rouged buttocks over his lap. He couldn’t deny they were lacking in meaty flesh, but still, they were perfectly round and they had been of the most delicate white he’d ever borne witness too.
But not anymore. Now they were as red as crab apples. Each time he’d delivered a swat another depth of color had arrived. And now... now she glowed a stunning scarlet.
And he had to say she was taking it well. But then again, from the moment he’d decided to grab her, take her as his captive, he’d known she was different. She had fight in her, a will to live, and a stubborn streak that would be hard to break.
He brought the sole of his leather shoe down once more on her offered buttock, layering the shoe-shaped redness his swat would create over the previous ones. Anticipating the jolt of her body, as he continued to deliver the discipline, he tightened his hold. He was nearly done. Each quivering buttock was almost on an equal number of slaps and of a matching delightful shade...
He paused for a moment and explored his handiwork, enjoying the heat that radiated onto his palm. Her skin had appeared virginal, now it was his, burning with his mark.
She moaned, kicked her legs a little, and clasped his calf. Her small hand was nothing more than a kitten’s paw. But her slight frame, her tiny hands and feet, delicate features, just added fuel to the protective streak in him.
How can I protect her if she won’t obey me?
He had to set down rules if he was to keep her safe. This first spanking would start growing her trust and dare he say it... respect.
He gripped the shoe, slapped it down again. This was the last one, and he didn’t hold back, gave her a good hard whack.
“Ouch! Please, no more. I beg you, Master.”
Part of him was sorry it had ended, but equally he was glad it had.
Will her pain ever become mine? Will she ever truly become a part of my soul and my destiny?
He shook his head to rid his mind of such a ridiculous thought. She was a slave. The lowest of the low. A thrall. He needed to remember his place as master, and not allow her to affect him... much.
He tossed his shoe to one side, gripped her waist, and pulled her upward so she was half sitting on his lap, her tender ass not in contact with anything.
Her face was flushed, her cheeks wet, and her eyes were misty. She was breathing hard.
He stared at her chest rising and falling. Her pert breasts were pushing at her clothing then retreating over and over. A sudden urge struck him to see her chest, to explore her shape, witness the color of her flesh... her nipples.
Reaching for the base of her dress, which was rucked around her waist, he tugged it upward.
“No!” She tried to fight him, but her efforts were of little hindrance to him.
Quickly he had her dress off and discarded on the floor. He’d have to organize new garments for her; what she had was in a sorry state.
“What are you doing?” She clasped her hands over her small breasts, hiding them from his view.
Her breaths had sped up further, adding to his pleasure at having a near naked woman on his lap. She was flushed, a little damp with sweat, and despite her naivety he could sense the spark in her, the passion that lurked beneath the surface.
“You are mine,” he said, gripping her wrists, “and as such I wish to inspect my property.”