The Viking's Conquest

by Felicity Brandon

  “Yes, he is most certainly hurt!” exclaims the man behind me, steadily moving me toward the horse as we speak. “You have cut him deeply and he will be wanting retribution for your act. Today is not the day to test him any further.”

  Suddenly the weight of every emotion I have felt becomes too much. I begin to sob uncontrollably until Anders becomes the one keeping me upright, rather than the one holding me under duress.

  “Hush, my sweeting,” soothes Anders.

  I lean against his body, feeling my feet moving beneath me as if they have a will of their own.

  “I will ease this pain,” he breathes into my ear. “But first we must flee this place. Let us walk a while and clear your head.”

  I nod my agreement even as the tears form rivers down my cheeks. I have made my choice. I have chosen Anders, the foreign invader who sought to possess me and in doing so I have turned my back on everything I have ever known. As we leave the village on foot with the steed at Anders’ side, a numbness settles over me. Releasing me from his grip, we walk in silence for some time, hand in hand. My mind is empty, as though it is not able to comprehend the enormity of this thing I have chosen to do. I watch as the trees and fields pass by and realise that we are close to the edge of Donrose’s territory. Acknowledging this fact, Anders ties the stallion’s reins to a nearby branch in a small clearing, and turns to embrace me. I revel in the heat of his hard body, spreading my fingers over the punished skin of his back. He winces at the contact, but permits it, perhaps understanding my need for the physical contact.

  “You saved me, my captive!”

  He looks down at me, tears forming in his own eyes at the admission. I gaze up at him, my face swollen with hurt and look into his eyes. In spite of everything I cannot bring myself to regret this action I have taken. Anders is alive and he is free. My mind can rest.

  “I told you I would not leave you to die,” I whisper, my voice still thick with suffering.

  He smiles, wiping the tears from my eyes with his large thumbs. “You did,” he laughs softly. “And fool that I am, I did not believe you.”

  Now it is my turn to smile. “You have underestimated me, my Lofðungr?”

  He nods as his expression changes. “Perhaps,” he says, shrugging his broad, muscular shoulders. “And if that is the case then I promise never to fall foul of this trap again.”

  I blink up at him, my mind resigned to the gravity of my new situation. “What do you intend to do with me now?” I ask with trepidation.

  His right hand moves into my hair, pushing my hood down from my head as it does so. “What would you have me do?” he answers. “You who have saved the life of your Viking invader?”

  I press myself into the hand, feeling the warmth against my cooling skin. “I would have you possess me,” I whisper, staring deep into those blue pools above me. “Take me, own me, and protect me—the way you did before.”

  His face relaxes at my words, softening in the most beautiful way. “I have been a cruel and unfair master to you, Aurelie,” he says. “I punished you for Magnus’ deed, knowing full well that the guilt was his and his alone.”

  I move in toward his body, reaching up to caress his lips. “No,” I reply breathlessly.

  “No?” he asks, smoothing back my hair from my face. “Did I not humiliate and punish you for his deed?”

  I close my eyes briefly, recalling how much the ordeal had hurt, but then I also remember the serenity his possession had brought me afterwards.

  “You did, my Lofðungr,” I whisper. “Yet I did desire Magnus and I felt shame for wanting him. Your punishment, though harsh, cleansed me—and brought us together again.”

  “You are too kind to me, my captive,” he says with a sigh and pulls my body firmly in toward him. His lips crash against mine, caressing and claiming me. I melt into his heat, opening for his tongue and yearning for him to devour me. His hands are in my hair, holding me in place as he concludes the kiss. “I will take you back to Norse, Aurelie.”

  Our lips have parted, but there’s only a few inches between our faces. His blue eyes drill into me, dripping with intensity.

  “As your whore?” I ask, feeling my body tremble. “Your—concubine?”

  He smiles, recognising the indignation in my voice as I consider my fate. I so desire to be with Anders—to serve this man—and yet, could I really live this life? As his courtesan?

  “You will always be more than that to me, Aurelie,” he says, pressing his forehead against into the top of my hair. “If I made you feel worthless when I plucked away your virginity, then I offer you a thousand apologies…”

  “No,” I whisper, recalling the intimacy of our first time clearly in my mind. “You have never made me feel worthless in that act. But you have made me feel many things. Fear, anticipation, and arousal,” I pause, blushing as I recount the list. “I have also learned what it is to be cherished, perhaps for the first time in my whole life. I can’t give that up—I won’t.”

  As he wraps his arms around me, we embrace in silence as we both collect our thoughts.

  “You will never have to give up what you feel,” he says finally. “Come with me to my homeland, and meet my father. If the gods permit it, then we will be betrothed.”

  An audible gasp leaves my lips at his suggestion. To be betrothed—his intended—is more than I could ever have envisioned.

  “How?” I ask, pressing myself against him. “How could your father permit it?”

  He smiles wistfully, a distant light catching his blue eyes. “Leave the king to me, my sweeting,” he says firmly. “He has been around many years and knows more of the world than other men. He will, I hope, accept my decision and welcome you as the mother of his heirs.”

  My mind reels at his words. In the last moments Anders has spoken of both marriage and children—concepts I had barely considered until this time. Yet I had to wonder, how could the Norse king accept my bloodline for his heirs? They would not be true Vikings if they were a part of me. I look up at the face of the man brooding over me, trying to read his expression.

  “Surely your father would never…”

  He removes his hand from my hair and presses one long digit over my lips, silencing me. “Enough, Aurelie. I have already told you to leave my father to me.”

  I colour at his tone, feeling the familiar rush of arousal spiking through me. Catching my breath, I consider his words. Should I drop this important matter to appease him or pursue the subject and risk reprimand? The words are out of my mouth before I have even reached a conclusion.

  “But, will he not be…”

  He sighs, stepping away from me and catching my wrists in his large left hand before I can react. “Will you ever learn, my captive?” he asks.

  His voice is warm and amused, yet it sends an icy chill of excitement through me. He strides backward as he speaks, pulling me gently toward him as he seats himself on the flattened remains of an ancient tree trunk.

  “I… I did not mean to offend you,” I offer as some means of defence, and yet I realise already how futile my words are. More than that, I acknowledge that I secretly desire him to spank me more than anything. I need the catharsis of the pain and the denigration. I need to be his again.

  He is smiling as he moves me around the side of his waiting lap. “There is no offence,” he says gently. “Yet you forget already who your master is, Aurelie?”

  “No!” I gasp as I reach the right side of the stump. “I do not, my Lofðungr!”

  He pauses, releasing my wrists and shifts to look at me. “Then you have chosen to provoke me for your amusement?”

  That blond brow is arching over his right eye again, making me damp in the most intimate places. I hesitate, unsure how to answer.

  “Well?” he demands.

  I reply the only way I know how. “Spank me, please, my Lofðungr?”

  My voice is small, but thick with need and desire. The look in his eyes is so wicked I fear it may set the tinder alight aroun
d us.

  “Is that what you need, my sweeting?” he asks, his voice softer than before.

  “Yes,” I squeak, blushing at my own admission.

  He nods his head, confirming that he understands and pats his lap with his right hand. “Come then,” he says sensually. “Over my knee, my captive. The sun will soon depart and we do not have much time.”

  I race across his lap excitedly, feeling the cool air around my behind as he lifts the back of my cape and robe. He begins at once, winding me with the force of the first blow. I cry out and moan over the trunk, enjoying the feeling of his dominance over me as his hand warms my bottom in the small clearing. With only the steed to bear witness, he spanks me over and over with his right hand, whilst he caresses my hair with the left. I grow more and more aroused by the punishment, longing for him to slide his hardness inside of me after only fifteen strikes or so. But our time is short and we must move on or risk the wrath of Bowen and so at length, his hand stills.

  “Alas, this is all the time we have, my captive.”

  He lands a final strike for good measure, the sound of his palm connecting with my reddened flesh echoing around the trees. I moan over his lap, desperate for more.

  “I know,” he soothes. “I swear I will continue your spanking when we reach a safe land and then I will possess you more fully than ever before.”

  I swoon at the prospect as he helps me up from over his lap. “Thank you,” I murmur, straddling him.

  The spanking has made me feel warm and cherished, my mind finally free to let go of some of the emotion I have been struggling with. I feel calm and soporific. He plants a chaste kiss on my lips and laughs at my response to his punishment.

  “Never before have I known a lady so well suited to my brand of discipline, Aurelie,” he chuckles as he holds me against his chest.

  We remain there for a while, suspended together in this one perfect moment in time. We are connected again and I choose for it to never end.

  “Come now, my lady,” he says eventually. “Let me help you mount this steed and we will away.”

  I am compliant—my burning need seemingly sated for now—and take his hand as he moves me from his lap to the waiting stallion. Once I am comfortable and the horse untied, he climbs up behind me and his strong arms snake around the side of my body to take the harness. He plants a hot kiss at the nape of my neck, nuzzling me as the steed moves slowly away.

  “You’re mine now, Aurelie,” he whispers into my ear. “Mine this day and mine for all the days to come.”

  My body whirs at the truth in his words. Whatever is to come, I welcome it. This fallen daughter of Donrose has made her choice and I choose Anders. For every nuance of his manner that frustrates me, there is a gracious and giving master, dedicated to my needs and desires. I have given up my seat in Donrose to consort with my enemy, betraying my family to submit to this foreign prince. Many will call me foolish to have fallen for the charms of my foe. I smile as I imagine their words, knowing I have never been more contented in my life. I would rather be shackled in love and passion to this man than bound by the confines and expectations of Donrose tradition.

  I rest against his taut chest as we make our way onward. Wild dogs howl somewhere in the wilderness around us, but with Anders with me I have no fear. He presses his left arm around my midriff, continuing to convey the now unspoken message: you are mine, Aurelie. The moon, swollen and nearly full, rises to guide our way into the unknown, the rest of our lives waiting on the path ahead.

  The End

  Stormy Night Publications would like to thank you for your interest in our books.

  If you liked this book (or even if you didn’t), we would really appreciate you leaving a review on the site where you purchased it. Reviews provide useful feedback for us and our authors, and this feedback (both positive comments and constructive criticism) allows us to work even harder to make sure we provide the content our customers want to read.

  If you would like to check out more books from Stormy Night Publications, if you want to learn more about our company, or if you would like to join our mailing list, please visit our website at:

  http://www.stormynightpublications.com

  More Stormy Night Books by Felicity Brandon

  Submission at The Tower

  This is not a love story. This is the story of the hunger inside of me which must be fed before it consumes me entirely…

  After a chance encounter with a handsome stranger introduces her to The Tower, an institution that trains women in submission, Janie McClusky is irresistibly drawn to the place. But admittance comes at a price, and soon enough Janie is utterly bare and fully on display, blushing crimson as the men at The Tower thoroughly explore her body, bringing her pain, pleasure, and shame as they see fit.

  As Janie’s training begins, there is one man among the group who seems to know her own needs better than she does, and before long she finds herself yearning and even begging for his touch. But if she relinquishes control completely to this captivating stranger and allows him to break down her remaining defences, will there be any coming back at all?

  Buy on Amazon

  Felicity Brandon Links

  You can keep up with Felicity Brandon via her blog, her Twitter account, her Facebook page, and her Goodreads profile, using the following links:

  http://fbrandonfiction.wix.com/felicity-brandon-

  https://twitter.com/FelicityBrandon

  https://www.facebook.com/felicitybrandonerotica

  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6892310.Felicity_Brandon