The Viking’s Possession
Release date:
Friday, 8th, June, 2018
Publisher: Stormy
Night Publications
Categories:
Viking romance, Dark romance, BDSM, Spanking romance, Erotic Romance
Hash tags:
VikingRomance, SpankingRomance, #BDSMRomance, HistoricalRomance
Tag line:
War captured her,
desire captivated her, but can her Viking captor truly possess her?
Buy Link:
Link to contest which
runs until June 15th: https://www.facebook.com/felicitybrandonerotica/posts/2262505567099717
Cover:
Blurb:
After she saves the life of Prince Anders, the Viking
warrior who took her as his captive and tamed both her body and her heart,
nineteen-year-old Princess Aurelie of Donrose knows that she can never return
home again. She will belong to Anders forever, as his bride and his possession,
destined to be used and enjoyed as thoroughly, shamefully, and often as he
pleases.
Though Anders has proven many times that he is more than willing to punish her
bare bottom harshly for any disobedience, with war fast approaching between her
brother and her husband, Aurelie puts her own life in danger in the hopes of
making peace. But when her reckless gamble goes wrong, can Anders rescue his
headstrong young wife before any harm comes to her?
The Viking's Possession is the sequel to The Viking's Conquest, but can be read
as a stand-alone novel. It includes spankings, and sexual scenes, including
some scenes of sexual humiliation. If such material offends you, please don't
buy this book.
Snippets:
I mewl at him, desperate to be
free of my binds, yet never wanting my captivity to end. “Please, Anders,” I
beg him. “Make me yours.”
***
Whatever it is about being taken
in hand by a powerful man, Anders has it in good measure.
***
“I do so love to hear you beg,
Aurelie,” he purrs, “but no, now is not the time to stop. Your spanking only
truly begins when you think you can bear no more, and rest assured my love,” he
pauses to land a further three firm strikes to my sore bottom. “You will bear
more for me.”
***
There are no words between us now
– language seemingly lacking the coherence required to elaborate such a
connection.
***
There are no words between us now
– language seemingly lacking the coherence required to elaborate such a
connection.
***
I surrender to him at this moment, lost to the intimacy
every inch as much as the pain had cast me adrift earlier. He loves me, this
man. My ferocious Viking invader is as sincere as he is brutal. He’s the
sentimental sadist, if such a thing should exist, and right now he is trapped
beneath my hot, writhing body.
***
No matter what – no matter how
far he pushes me, whatever his expectations and demands – we always create
beauty in the darkness he spins.
***
My will is absolute, and my
instructions must be obeyed. When you defy me, you will be punished.
***
I do need him. I need him to rule
over me. It is what he has always desired, and I feel no shame at asking for
it.
Excerpts:
(Please only use ONE excerpt in
your post).
Dominant Anders – 18+
Ignoring me, Anders presses on,
pushing the phallus inside my ass. I buck against my bondage as it invades me,
utterly conflicted by the experience. The ropes make it impossible to prevent
this intrusion, and we both know it. This is why Anders has chosen to secure me
in such a bizarre way. My sex and my ass are totally exposed, and vulnerable to
his every dark desire.
“Feel my phallus claim you, my
sweeting.” His voice floats from down between my legs. “You will take this for
me for the rest of this punishment, and whilst you do, you’ll remember who is
in charge. You’ll remember who can touch, claim, and explore, and who must
yield, receive, and endure.”
I groan again, my head now flat
against the bedding as the stone fills my ass. It’s not the largest implement,
and Anders’ manhood is certainly longer, but the hard, cold stone is different
to what I’m used to. It’s odd and unsettling, reinforcing Anders’ point with
perfect clarity—he is in charge. He
is in control. All I can do is take it, take the phallus and take my
punishment.
Once he is finally satisfied
that I have taken the length of the stone, Anders swats my ass playfully. “Good
girl,” he says teasingly. “You will keep that phallus in place until I tell you
otherwise.” His body shifts and his face comes into view over my bound body. “Do
you understand?”
I’m nodding even before I’ve had
time to process his question. This is
what Anders does to me. He takes my usual clear-headed wilfulness and turns it
to mush. I can argue, I can push and protest, but in the end, I know I will
always submit to this man. “Yes, I understand, my Lofðungr,” I murmur.
He nods, smiling as he leans
down to plant a chaste kiss on my panting mouth. “Now, let me pleasure you some
more…”
His body slips from view and I
squirm needlessly in my ropes. It’s like I cannot keep still because I know now
what he has in mind. He doesn’t want to pleasure me at all, he only wants to
build me up to the brink of ecstasy, before abandoning the pursuit. He wants to
torture me with denial—that is my
punishment. As his mouth descends to my pulsating sex once more, I’m
overwrought with misery. His ministrations are amazing, his tongue flicking
over my excited nib at perfect intervals, whilst the phallus fills my ass in
its hard and denigrating way.
Within a moment I am right there
again. My mind reels, and I consciously try to control my breathing, reasoning
that I can fool Anders. Perhaps if I don’t make my burgeoning pleasure so
obvious, I can trick him into thinking I am not at the brink. Perhaps I can
achieve my orgasm after all? The idea gives me a glimmer of hope. I close my
eyes, willing myself to remain as calm as I can in light of his merciless
pursuit of my suffering, but oh, Gods, it’s just too good. Before I know what
is happening I am panting again, my nipples beading painfully as Anders takes
me right to the brink, before—inevitably—stopping short of allowing me to
climax.
This time I screech in
frustration, not caring what the consequences of my outburst will be. Damn him!
Damn this man who has captured me in just about every way possible. It’s as
though this Viking can read my mind, and he knows instinctively when I am about
to explode. He is the only man who has ever known me carnally, and it seems he
is truly at one with my body.
“Now, now, Aurelie,” he tells
me, admonishing me in a gleeful way. “What did I warn you about that pretty
little mouth?”
My eyes fly open, and I moan out
of instinct, my hips—still rolled forward by the bondage—struggling desperately
for some stimulus as Anders shifts from the bed. I’m vaguely aware of him
stripping beside me, and then he disappears from my view, striding to the other
side of the room. By the time he returns, I’m desperate. The weight of the
contradiction afflicts me. The same things that irritate and repel me—the
strange bondage, the phallus shoved inside me, and the unrelenting denial of
pleasure—also arouse me. I know without needing to check that I am soaking with
desire. Anders is playing my body like an instrument.
“Open up, my sweeting,” his
voice coos from my left side.
I blink up at his towering naked
form. His body is hard, chiselled perfection, and his cock juts out eagerly in
front of him. My eyes dart to his hand, which he presents to me. Between his
thumb and forefinger is one of the small orange fruits he had taunted me with
in the Viking camp. My belly knots in anxiety. I know what is coming next.
“Now, Aurelie,” he tells me, his
tone increasingly insistent.
My lips part slowly, my breath
shaky with apprehension as I comply.
The expression on Anders’ face
is pure lust as he appraises me. “I warned you, my sweeting,” he purrs, and I
watch as the fruit moves into view, descending slowly toward my waiting mouth.
“I asked for silence, and since you cannot comply, instead I offer you fruit.
I’m sure you remember my favourite fruit, Aurelie.” He chuckles at his own
words. “I always keep a bowl of fresh fruit in my chambers.”
If he expects a reply, then he
gives me no time to offer one. The orange fruit slides perfectly into my mouth,
capturing my teeth around its soft flesh. He grins down at me, satisfied with
what he sees, and I do not try to resist. The fruit, I suppose, is inevitable.
He must have known I would never be able to contain my responses during this
penance, even if I hadn’t. This is what Anders had planned all along.
The realisation makes me
wretched, or at least it would do if I wasn’t so intolerably turned on.
Sexual Intimacy
I land on the bed, eyelids
flickering open and closed as the spasms of pleasure continue to overpower me.
Anders shifts his weight on the bed over me, and as my lids fully open, I see
him come into view over my face. His gaze is compelling and holds me to bed
every inch as much as his body had done before.
“Roll onto your belly,” he commands me, lifting his body weight to give me
enough room to spin as instructed.
Once I am in place, he lowers his hard body over my
own, spreading my legs apart with his knees. I know just what he will do next,
and as though it is some unspoken agreement between us, the edge of his large
erection nudges at my wet, exposed sex.
“I need you,” he murmurs, his mouth whispering into
my right ear.
“Take me,” I reply, twisting my head to acknowledge
his words.
His lips find my own, capturing my mouth in his
kiss as he plunges slowly into my empty channel. The scent of my own desire
wafts over me, and the reality that his mouth has just pleasured me leaves me
overwrought. Between our legs his hard length fills me right up to his
testicles. The depth and intensity of the act the clearest sign of his
possession of me yet. My mind whirls at the sensation, my mouth opening into a
silent ‘o’ as he withdraws, and then slams back into me again.
There are no words between us now – language
seemingly lacking the coherence required to elaborate such a connection. His
mouth falls to my neck, nipping and kissing my nape as his groin flexes
forward, penetrating me over and over, pushing me into a frenzy of desire. I
want to speak, to call out, to demonstrate somehow the way his passion makes me
feel, but I simply cannot find the will. His hardness pinions me there, grazing
my nub into a flurry of new excitement, despite its recent satisfaction. I
notice that his thrusts have become shorter, and more insistent, and I gaze
back at Anders, marvelling at the look of agonised ecstasy on his handsome
face.
Punishment
“How is my captive now?” His
tone is deep and intimidating, and the resonance sends a flood of moisture
rushing from my core.
“A little afraid, my Lofðungr,” I admit, watching as he
strips his doublet from his torso, revealing his strong arms and chest.
His eyes narrow slightly, but he
does not pass comment. Instead, he pauses, watching me in silence for a moment,
seemingly deep in thought. At length, he moves to a large trunk in place
against a far wall, lifting the substantial lid, and identifying something he
desires from its contents. He swoops, collecting it, and his gaze is back on me
at once, searing into my flesh. “Why afraid?” he asks, stepping back toward me.
Trapped in the confines of his
bedcovers, I eye the implement in his hands with trepidation. It’s a lash, much
like the one he has used on me before, and memories of those times flood my
brain, my mouth drying in an instant. “My Lofðungr,
please,” I say, the plea out before I even have time to think. “Do I really deserve
such a penance?”
He reaches the opposite edge of
the bed, smiling. “Is it for you to decide how your punishment is delivered?”
I shake my head, fear and
arousal combining to make me feel giddy. “No, my Lofðungr,” I whisper.
He drops to the covers below,
his weight reverberating up the length of the bed to where I sit, curled into
something of a ball. “You have no reason to fear me, Aurelie,” he smiles.
“After everything which has transpired between us, do you really think I could
cause you any real harm?”
I blink away the tears that have
collected in my eyes, once more shaking my head at his question. “No,” I sniff,
watching him as he slides further up the bed toward me. “But please remember,
my Lofðungr, you hold all of the
cards here. These are your chambers, your town—your people. I am but a
foreigner here—an alien—your most recent conquest.”
His tongue darts from his mouth,
licking his lower lip in an unconscious way. “Au-re-lie,” he murmurs in that
way that makes me belly clench and my sex yearn for him. “You know me better
than this now, no?” He poses it as a question, yet gives me no time to respond.
“I do not bring women back to my castle—not ever—not until you.”
There is silence for a moment as
I absorb his words.
I
draw in a deep breath, hypnotised by his performance. “You are the prince?” I
offer in a tiny voice. “You always were.”
He
smiles, dismissing my answer with a small shake of his blond hair. “A prince
perhaps,” he concedes, “but much more than that, Aurelie. Now I am your devil—all yours—and you are mine.”
My heart is slamming against my
chest as he crawls toward me, the black implement still clutched in his left
hand. He rips the covers from my chest, exposing my breasts to the cool air
once more, before straddling me with his formidable legs.
“You need not worry about my
intention, or what you deserve,” he laughs softly. “I want all of your
attention on me, right here, right now, do you understand?”
I nod, panting as he lowers his
body over me. As he supports himself on his elbows, his lips brush over my
mouth, his beard grazing me as he delivers soft caresses, before claiming my
lips again. He finds me open and pliant, my mouth yielding for his sweet
possession. It’s the most natural sensation in the world, and somehow the power
of his kiss gives me strength. I am not afraid. I have come this far—and I do
trust him.
About Felicity:
Felicity is a #1 international
bestselling, and award winning writer of dark, spanking romance. Head in the
clouds, you can usually find her either plotting her next book, hitting the
gym, or rocking out to her favourite music. She lives to write though, and is
happiest creating desire and kink at her keyboard.
Find Felicity here:
Website and blog: https://felicitybrandonwrites.com/
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Unshackled is a thrilling ride of sexual awakening, love, money and corruption…
Rachael Stewart adores conjuring up stories for the readers of Harlequin Mills & Boon and Deep Desires Press, with tales varying from the heart-warmingly romantic to the wildly erotic.
