Welcome Guest Author Ashe Barker
I’m always on the lookout for authors I haven’t read before, and this looks like a good one. 🙂 It’s already out and available on Amazon, so there is no waiting. But it has one of the BEST spanking threats I’ve yet read. I love, love, LOVE spanking threats.
“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.”
Her Celtic Captor by Ashe Barker
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
With his free hand he swept the length of her pale blonde hair back from her face and offered her a tight smile.
“Let me go. Do not touch me…” Her voice hitched, panic starting to bubble forth.
He had expected as much. Taranc softened his features. “You are safe, lady, apart from the whipping you have earned, naturally.”
Her eyes widened. “Wh-whipping. What do you intend to do?”
“We are at eight strokes, I believe, by my reckoning.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We shall use the mast, I think…”
“The mast? What? You cannot—”
It was time to be firm, to assert his authority if they were to have any peace on this voyage. “Lady, you do not command here. I do, and I have already warned you of the consequences if you disobey or otherwise vex me. Eight strokes. Now, get up.”
He released her wrists and rose to his feet. He did not miss the startled widening of her eyes when she found herself staring at his semi-erect cock, the darkening of her pupils as the implications of his arousal sank in. He could not help his response to her and was not about to apologise for it, but he did not need her to succumb to panic now. Taranc grinned at her as he retrieved the blanket and tied it around his waist again then offered her his hand to assist her up. She was not reassured. Brynhild shrank away from him, shaking her head. “No, please do not do this. I am sorry, I—”
“Up. Now.” The sudden evaporation of her previous belligerence was not lost on him. Neither was her shock at the sight of his erection but Taranc was not entirely convinced. He would not put it past her to dissemble, to seek to manipulate him even now. He deliberately hardened his tone. “You may submit willingly, or not, but the end will be the same.” He leaned down to offer his hand again.
Brynhild groped behind her for the blanket and managed to snag a corner of the fabric. She clasped it around her once more as she scrambled to her feet, ignoring his offer of assistance. Her chin tilted at a defiant angle as she glared at him, then eyed the mast with distaste. So much for her nervous apprehension and apparent contrition.
Taranc gestured to her to precede him to the mast where Eileifr waited with a length of narrow rope. Her steps slow, Brynhild did as he instructed, coming to a halt below the billowing sail. She looked up, then back over her shoulder at Taranc. “Shall I lean against it, then?”
“You will hug the mast, lady, and Eileifr if you would be so good as to secure her wrists? Not too tight, but we must be sure she will not shift at an inopportune moment.”
“That will not be necessary, I—”
“Eileifr.” At Taranc’s curt command the karl stepped forward and reached for Brynhild’s wrists. She stepped away from him, her eyes blazing.
“Keep your hands off me. I will not permit this.” She tucked her hands further within the folds of the blanket.
Taranc had heard enough. He leaned forward to murmur in her ear. “Ten, lady. And the count will increase with every act of defiance, every refusal to obey. Are you really so set on adding to your punishment? You will spend a great deal more time than you might care to imagine lashed to that mast if you do not have a care.”