Hunted by the Barbarians by Epsilon Angel – Extended Preview

“Do you understand why I’m punishing you, sweetling?” Domal asked as he ran his palm over my ass, his hand big enough to cover every bit. I shuddered to imagine what a dedicated spanking would feel like.

“Because you’re a domineering dick?” Though I knew it was a stupid thing to say, I couldn’t help myself.

In response, he did the unthinkable; he hooked his finger into my waistband and dragged down both my woolen leggings and my panties in one fell swoop. I gasped in outrage but couldn’t do any more than struggle uselessly as he bared my bottom.

“Domal!” I scolded, my belly sucking inward in a mixture of nerves and intense arousal.

Both males inhaled sharply as the wool was dragged forcefully downward. I could feel the heat of their gazes as they devoured the sight of my newly revealed flesh.

After a beat, a large, callused hand ran over one bare cheek, squeezing it just hard enough to elicit a little mewl of need from my lips. Claws gently skated across my skin, setting my nerve endings ablaze.

I jerked slightly at the sensation, craning my head as far as I could to look behind me. Fiach was staring down at my exposed skin as if he couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away. He was oblivious to everything else except for me in that moment, and it was uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity.

I’d never before been the focus of such undivided attention. Sure, I’d been stared at, but the eyes had been filled with hate or disdain. Never unapologetic, scorching desire. Before I could begin to process, he reached forward to work his thumb into the crack of my ass, pressing teasingly against the sensitive ring nestled there. My eyes flew wide in shock and protest, and this time Fiach’s gaze trailed back up to mine, sparkling with both a wicked desire and carnal promise.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Domal purred, batting the probing hand away. “Spanking first, play later.”

Before I could ask what the hell ‘play’ meant (though I suspected I knew, which I dreaded and anticipated), a monstrous hand crashed down onto my ass, cutting off any words I attempted to formulate. Instead, a brief scream tried to crawl its way from up my throat. Thankfully, I was able to cut it off abruptly before it could be realized.

I barely managed to scrape by with my dignity intact. The sensation of Domal’s palm against my bare flesh was so much worse than the light spanking I’d gotten over my leggings from Fiach the other day. The burn was a thousand times hotter, and I had to work much harder to force myself to keep silent.

But I would. These Barbarians wouldn’t get what they wanted from me.

“She thinks she’ll make it through her spanking quietly,” Fiach noted, crouching down by my face and brushing the hair from my eyes with gentle fingers. “You are allowed to show vulnerability, little female. There is no shame in it when you are with us.”

“Says the male who both captured me like an animal and is currently watching me get spanked!” I snarled, venom in every word.

“Fiach is correct,” Domal said, sending a flurry of blows onto my unprotected skin and forcing me to sink my teeth savagely into my lower lip. “Let those emotions out, sweetling, or I will make you count for us.”

The force of his hand increased, and it dragged out a keening whimper from between my unwilling lips. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing my walls would soon crumble around me.

No weakness. Not here. Not ever.

Another thundering smack quickly made me rethink my convictions. Apparently, the first few spanks Domal had delivered were warm-ups. My resolve not to make any noise went careening out the window like an asshole in a bar fight as soon as he landed his first serious blow.

The shriek I emitted was positively unholy. I turned into a wild woman, clawing and kicking frantically, cursing so colorfully I would’ve made my soldiers blush, and just generally raising hell. Domal responded by calmly pinned my legs with one of his own, effectively imprisoning me in a cage of his strong body. A fact I was disgusted with myself for enjoying in any capacity.

Throughout the process, he never ceased his easy, measured spanking. Though it hurt like the devil was thrashing me with a fiery whip, I knew deep down that he was holding back, so as not to hurt me.

Such a thing should have been a given, of course. Though it may ruffle my feathers to admit it, he was far stronger than I could ever hope to be. Of course he would temper himself.

But though I might have been inexperienced, I wasn’t naïve. I’d seen the results of the more violent men’s attentions on the village whores. I remembered vividly the sight of the bruises, the broken bones, the split lips, and the haunted expressions. And those had been inflicted by human men, on women who had done their best to be compliant to their wishes.

I, on the other hand, had gone out of my way to be a thorn in these males’ sides. Yet, they were careful with me, calm and controlled. They had not once yelled or cursed at me. They hadn’t backhanded me for insolence like one local man had when I was thirteen before Garrett had run him out of town. Even the spanking I was receiving now was not delivered in anger or frustration. I was shocked that though I was certainly not pleased with the situation, I did not in any way feel unsafe. Quite the opposite, in fact.

These men were… not even men. They were Barbarians. Na Daoine.

So why did I feel like I’d never been more secure?

“Want to try answering our question again, sweetling?” Domal asked, pausing in his blistering spanking.

“Not particularly,” I whispered hoarsely, clenching and unclenching my hands in his iron grip. “Because my answer hasn’t changed.”

The indecision in my voice was obvious, even to me, and I knew they heard it.

“If you’re hoping to outlast my patience, anama, you will be sorely disappointed.” Domal’s statement reminded me of just how helpless I was. They had all the control, and any resistance I put up would be rendered futile by time. It should’ve made me furious. I hated to be at the whim of others. Yet strangely, it didn’t.

“So, tell us, why is he punishing you?” Fiach asked as his hand gripped my hair firmly, but comfortingly. “Tell us.”

“Go to hell!” I sobbed out before I could stop myself, and instantly regretted it when a half dozen punishing smacks landed on my upturned ass. Again, I was unable to hold back a cry, tears stinging my eyes. I wish I could say it was pain, or at least purely pain, that drew the tears forward. But it was something more, something deeper. Something tugging from inside myself that I couldn’t and didn’t want to understand.

“Why am I punishing you, sweetling?” Domal’s words were a command, one I found I could no longer resist.

“Because I denied being yours!” I shouted as his hand came down again.

With my concession, Domal’s palm ceased its relentless punishment, his fingers coming down to caress my abused skin. I shuddered at the intimate contact as liquid heat pooled between my thighs. The tingles spread throughout my body, any resistance I threw up laughable against it.

“Half right, little one,” Fiach prodded, his fingers trailing lazily, almost reverently through my curls. “Continue.”

“Because I ran from you? Almost skewered you with arrows? I don’t know!” I whimpered, my hips dancing and writhing under Domal’s teasing touches. Whether to get away from the spanking or to ask for more, even I didn’t know.

“Hardly,” Fiach chuckled deep in his chest. “That does not warrant punishment.”

“Just the opposite,” Domal agreed. “Nothing pleases us more than you do. Your fire is simply a part of a perfect whole. And we adore it as we adore you. You are a strong, capable female.”

I certainly didn’t agree with that, not when another storm of spanks followed the Barbarian’s statement, and, despite my best efforts, tears began to leak down my cheeks.

All the fear, the desperation, the helplessness, every bit of emotion I’d felt over the last few days, spilled over at the hands of these two males. It was a primal response, one that I instinctively knew that no one else could bring out in me. Deny it as I might, my body in that moment knew who it wanted—I had no say in the matter.

“I-I don’t—” I sobbed out, burying my face against the bulk of Domal’s thigh for comfort.

“Denying our claim did not please us,” Fiach murmured, massaging the nape of my neck. “But when you held that blade to your throat…” He trailed off, his hand tightening fractionally in distress.

“You will never put yourself in danger like that again, Alta. Do you understand?” Domal growled, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear.

“Yes, I promise!” I whimpered, wiggling as a wave of unfamiliar longing came over me.

“Good girl. Just a few more then,” Domal murmured.

Without comment, a fact for which I was grateful, the spanking continued. However, instead of remaining rigid and resisting the feeling, I relaxed into their embrace. I took the pain, the surrender, and held it close, let it wash through me. It was almost cleansing, as if Domal was spanking the awful feelings right out of me.

Before long, the throbbing sensation in my pussy grew to be an unbearable ache, my inner thighs becoming slick with my need, my ass lifting eagerly to meet every punishing smack of Domal’s palm. I could feel my pulse thrumming in my clit like an erotic drumbeat. When the spanking stopped, I almost missed its cadence, a desperate mewl erupting from my mouth, unbidden.

I remained relaxed and pliant in Domal’s lap, the heat in my skin sinking deeper and spreading in the aftermath. I bathed in its warm glow… right up until Fiach disappeared from my view and gripped my ass cheeks, spreading me wide. I yelped, attempting to rise, my face flushing in embarrassment. But Domal’s arms refused to let me move, not budging so much as an inch.

“So rutting wet, little one,” Fiach growled, his voice tortured.

“Mmm,” Domal made a low sound of agreement, running his knuckle up and down my spine absently. “It seems our female enjoys our taking control more than she lets on.”

“I do not enjoy submitting! You—” My protest was cut short on a weak moan when large, callused fingers parted my glistening lower lips, further exposing me to the Barbarians.

“I never said you enjoyed submitting,” Domal corrected patiently. “I said you enjoyed our taking control. There is a mighty big difference, sweetling.”

I was so distracted by his twin that I nearly missed Fiach’s warm breath blowing gently over the petals of my pussy. I yelped, jerking when his large, warm tongue probed my intimate place, lapping insistently at my wet lips before gliding down and flickering lightly—torturously—against my clit.

I bucked my hips, making unrecognizable, frenzied noises of need at the sensation, but pinned as I was, I could do nothing but take what he offered. These two males were utterly in control of my pleasure. And unfortunately, I realized Domal was right—I did like that. Far, far too much.

I did not surrender myself to them. They took what they wanted, without apology. And it freed me in a way I’d never before experienced. I had no worries, no anxieties, I felt nothing but pleasure in their arms, at their whim. It didn’t make me weak; it only proved them to be strong.

“Lucky rutting bastard,” Domal muttered under his breath, watching his brother enviously. “How does she taste?”

“Delicious. Sweet like honey,” Fiach grunted, and my eyes flew open when a giant, demanding finger worked its way inside of me, sending bursts of pleasure up my spine to accompany the unfamiliar stretch. “And tight, so gods-damned tight and warm.”

“Perfect,” Domal murmured. “Make her come, Fiach. Reward her for being such a rutting good girl.”

Fiach grunted what must have been confirmation as he began pumping his finger in and out of me, my body clenching helplessly around the foreign intrusion. I twisted and cried, my toes curling as his thumb reached down, hitting the sensitive button of nerves that had me begging for mercy and praying to a god I didn’t believe in.

An unfamiliar tension was building inside of me, growing with every lick, suck, and nibble of Fiach’s wicked mouth. With every rhythmic pump, rub, and pinch of his fingers that wave crested higher and higher. I began to get genuinely agitated, tensing around the invading digit in abject fear, my muscles stiffening involuntarily in Domal’s arms. But Fiach was relentless, never once letting up on his pleasurable ministrations.

“Look at this pretty little clitty,” Fiach grated, his harshly ground words so filthy and taboo. “All pink and needy. Begging for my attention like a naughty little girl.”

“Do you like my brother’s finger in your tight cunt?” Domal purred in my ear, his teeth gently nipping and sucking at the tender flesh of my throat. “Tell us, Alta.”

I shook my head frantically, unable to form the words. They were so… illicit. So dirty.

I had heard them individually many times whilst living in the barracks, of course. It was a hazard of living with a group of testosterone-pumped soldiers. I had said such words myself many a time, ribbing the boys about their conquests and laughing at their bawdy tales. But this was an entirely different situation.

This was real. And it was terrifying. Admitting I liked what they were doing meant admitting I wanted something from them. Meant they had something over me. The very thought made my insides shrivel and blacken in fear.

I couldn’t say it. I refused.

At my silence, Fiach, obviously reluctant, pulled his head from between my thighs. I cried out wordlessly in protest, and he groaned in a harmony of agony.

“Domal asked something of you, anama. Obey him so I can go back to eating your pussy.”

“Fiach is hungry,” Domal chided, tugging firmly on the roots of my hair and sending sparks skating across my skin. “Don’t keep him waiting too long for his treat. It’s cruel.”

I bit my lip to muffle a squeal as Fiach’s finger crooked inside of me, hitting a spot that had my inner muscles spasming around him, a spurt of wetness coating his finger and drawing a desperate snarl from the Barbarian’s lips.

Without warning, Fiach’s hand cracked down on my ass, that deep, authoritative voice barking out, “Tell us, female!”

“Yes!” I finally sobbed out my answer, the impact of his giant palm on my flesh forcing the words from me. “I like it, alright? Please, I’ve never… felt so full.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Domal’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. “Full? From one finger? Fiach, just how tight is she?”

“Like a gods-damned vise,” Fiach answered, before eagerly burying his face between my thighs again with renewed fervor.

Once more, that rising tide of need crested. My limbs quivered and trembled, leaving me sobbing and begging. I feared I wouldn’t make it through… whatever it was… intact.

“What’s happening?” I cried, my voice husky and desperate. “Stop, please! I can’t—”

“Hush,” Domal murmured, Fiach’s mouth far too occupied to formulate a response excepting a rough growl. “Take what my brother gives you.”

My body recognized the command behind his words and surrendered.

I let out a tortured cry as I came, my body clamping with such force onto Fiach’s fingers that he could scarcely move them, pleasure crashing over my body in harsh, nigh on punishing waves of ecstasy. Stars danced in my vision, my body quaking and shuddering in the Barbarians’ immovable grip.

Throughout it all, Fiach never ceased his attentions, prolonging my pleasure and wringing every last tremor from my body. Against my will, one orgasm rolled into another and then another, until finally I was forced to sob for mercy, pleading for a reprieve from his wicked tongue.

For a moment, he ignored me, unwilling to leave my pussy. However, when my words began to lose their coherency, my pleas becoming babbling cries, he gave one last, lingering lick and relented.