Under Viking Dominion by Ashe Barker – Extended Preview

Your yacht is beautiful.

Audun looked up from the chart he was studying. Brenna was in the doorway leading from the top deck into the cockpit, a mug of coffee in each hand. She set one down beside him then perched on the small seat behind his to sip hers.

“I think so.” He inhaled the pungent aroma of espresso and thanked the gods that he had had the good sense to select a female who understood coffee.

They had been at sea for the best part of a day, and whilst she had spent the first few hours seated on the bench behind his seat in the cockpit, watching him manoeuvre the craft out of the harbour then set a course for the Azores, she had eventually become restless and wandered off on her own. He left her to it.

Although by no means a mega-yacht, Hylli would take a while to thoroughly explore, though it was evident that Brenna had already found the galley and fathomed how to use the coffeemaker. His yacht was thirty-one metres of sleek metal, polished timber, glistening chrome, and lightweight carbon fibre. Or, as he preferred to think of it, over a hundred feet of pure class. His prized possession, and he enjoyed Brenna’s admiration of his pride and joy.

Three cabins, the galley, and a guest bathroom were tucked neatly on the lower deck. Brenna had already discovered one of the cabins when she decided to stay the night. Two were for guests, not that he ever had any. The third he had converted into an office and he ran his business from there.

His own accommodation was on the main deck, the master cabin with en suite facilities, situated next to the salon. He intended for Brenna to share it, though he had no objection if she wanted to lay claim to one of the guest cabins too. Four weeks at sea could be claustrophobic; she might need her own space from time to time. As well as the internal accommodation the yacht boasted a sun deck equipped with its own bar and a chute for swimming from. In the past, Audun had never cared that much for splashing about in the ocean, it was too fucking cold, but he had come to appreciate the balmier waters of the tropics.

He had decided to leave her to find her own way about. If she missed anything, which he considered unlikely, he could do the guided tour later.

“Why are we going to Portugal?”

“I apologise. What did you say?”

“You said we would make landfall in Portugal. I just wondered why we were headed there and not to the UK.”

He beckoned her to stand behind him and pointed to a spot on the chart.

“The art of navigation has come a long way since my ancestors clung to the shores, rarely losing sight of land. There are well established routes for crossing the Atlantic, and the best one for going from west to east is what is usually called the Northern Passage. First, we head to the Portuguese Azores, here…” he pointed to the tiny dots on the map, “and from there we pick up the trade winds to help us make the crossing. The closest landfall in Europe is Portugal, and from there we will sail north to Scotland.”

“Oh. I assumed you would just set a course for North Uist.”

He grinned. “Let us be thankful then that one of us knows the way. Your talents lie elsewhere. Which reminds me, I should thank you for the work you did in the matter of regaining the bodies of my ancestors. I wanted to take them home but would not have known how to convince the authorities. I was considering breaking in there to steal the bones.”

“You weren’t.”

He shrugged. “I confess, there are times when I miss going a-Viking.”

“Do not even think about it.”

He swung his chair around to face her. “If you say so. But it is your thoughts which are troubling me just now. We have unfinished business, you and I.”

“We do?”

“You know we do. And, you said that you would accept your punishment for the disrespect you showed me.”

She swallowed, paled slightly. Even though she knew by now that he would never harm her, she was still afraid of him. Just a little.

He liked it. So did his cock. His erection grew and stiffened within his jeans.

“You have earned a spanking, Brenna. Are you ready to accept it now?”

“What, right now? Don’t you need to steer, or… or something?”

“Right now.” He took a last gulp of his coffee then set the mug down. “I have set our course, there is no need for me to remain here. And in any case we shall conduct your punishment on deck so you can be assured that if there should be the slightest danger of colliding with anything I shall see and take the necessary action. You will undress in the cabin you used last night, then come up as soon as you are naked.”

“Naked?” she squeaked. “But someone might see.”

He laughed. “We are two hundred miles offshore. There is no other ship within thirty miles of us. If you do not believe me, you may check the instruments yourself.”

“I don’t understand them.”

“Then you must accept my word on the matter. We are quite alone, Brenna. Is that not what you wanted? Is this not what you meant when you said we would have the space to find our way to be together?”

“I suppose so,” she muttered, then glanced up at him. “What will you use? To spank me with?”

“I think it is time you learned to accept my belt.”

Her features drained a little more, but she did not argue. Satisfied that he now knew how this would go, Audun got to his feet. “I shall see you on deck. Do not keep me waiting.”

Magnificent. Truly wondrous.

Audun had always admired a beautiful woman and had enjoyed many in his time. It was one of the benefits of being raised as a jarl. Still, few measured up to his Brenna. She was quite, quite glorious.

She emerged from the stairs entirely nude as he had instructed and glanced quickly to port and starboard, still anxious to convince herself that they had the privacy she clearly needed. She need not have feared. Audun had no intention of sharing his woman with any prying eyes. She was his, his alone.

He watched her walk toward him, all five feet seven of her, and at least half her willowy height was owed to those gorgeous, long legs. He silently cursed the practical jeans she usually chose to wear. He must try to get her naked more often.

He was leaning on the rail at the stern, the wind at his back as he waited for Brenna to reach him. At last she stood just a foot away, looking up at him, her expression a heady mix of trepidation and excitement.

“I need you to fuck me.”

He raised one eyebrow. He had not expected her to be quite so forthright, but he found he liked it. His cock swelled further, pressing painfully against the unyielding teeth of his zip. He really did need to get on with this.

“An excellent plan. After.”

Her lips twitched; he thought she might have spoken again, maybe even pleaded with him not to use his belt. He might have allowed her that concession, probably would, in fact. She was not the only one with something to prove here. But she remained silent.

He straightened and stepped aside, motioning her forward with a sweep of his arm.

“You will lean on the rail. Hold it with your hands, or I can tie them in place.”

“I’d prefer to hold on, if that’s all right.”

“Of course. You will lean forward. Yes, like that.” He paused to admire the delightful sight of this beautiful, naked female offering herself to him, accepting his authority to discipline her. “Lower your shoulders a little and lift your bottom higher. You will find it easier to balance if you spread your legs.” And he would be afforded a much better view of her slick pussy.

Brenna could not have been more cooperative. She shifted her posture as directed until she was positioned perfectly.

“Do not move,” he commanded quietly. “I have decided on twenty strokes.”

She groaned and clenched her quivering buttocks.

Audun continued, “You will accept all with good grace. You may cry out, indeed, I believe you will be unable to help yourself as this is going to hurt you. But you will not move, and you will keep hold of that rail all the time. Do you understand all of this?”

She nodded.

“Say it. Say it out loud.”

“I understand, Audun.”

“When you are being punished, you will call me Sir.”

“I… I understand, Sir.”

“If you need me to stop, you may say so. If you want a drink, you may ask for one. Are you thirsty now, Brenna?”

“N-no, Sir. I just… I want this to be over. After, will I be forgiven? Will it be as it was before with us?”

“You are already forgiven, my Brenna. You would not be on board my yacht if you were not.”

“Then why…?”

“Because this is how it is, how it has to be, between us. You do see that, do you not?”

She started to nod, then thought better of it. “Yes, I see it. And I’m ready, Sir.”

He smiled and started to unbuckle his belt.

Brenna shuddered at the swooshing sound it made as he tugged it free from the belt loops on his jeans. Her knuckles were white as her grip tightened. She stiffened, her bottom clenching hard. He had a plan to prevent that in the future but would need to purchase a few fingers of ginger to sort the matter out to his absolute satisfaction. Perhaps when they reached the Azores… Meanwhile, he had an item in his pocket that he knew would help to focus her attention.

First things first. He folded the belt in two, the buckle securely held in his fist. He swung it once, twice, to gauge the weight, then he raised his arm for the third time and picked his spot.

Crack.

The leather landed across both her buttocks. Brenna went up on her toes, hissed as the pain blossomed. He waited until she settled again, then he delivered the second stroke, right above the first.

“Oh!” She let out a sharp cry.

The third stroke elicited a yelp, the fourth a strangled sob.

He adjusted his stance and dropped the fifth crosswise over the four welts he had already created.

Brenna screamed, and her knees started to give way.

“We shall take a brief rest here,” he said as he wrapped one arm about her waist to steady her and used his free hand to dig in his pocket. “I have something for you, something to help pass the time while you wait for the rest of your spanking.”

She turned her face to regard him. She seemed confused, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’d prefer to just get it over with.”

He shook his head. “That is not what I planned, and why hurry? We have all day and it is a beautiful day, is it not?”

“Please,” she ground out. “Can we not just—?”

“Be quiet. Apart from screaming if you really cannot help yourself, I have decided you are not to make another sound unless I give you permission.”

“But—”

“For every time you disobey me, I shall add an extra stroke. We are at twenty-one now.” He waited a moment. “Do you understand, Brenna? You may answer, yes or no.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. Now, your gift…” He laid his palm on her buttock and she winced when he squeezed the soft curve. “Be still,” he admonished, dropping a not especially light tap on her reddened flesh.

Brenna managed to oblige him, only letting out a startled gasp when he parted her buttocks to better expose her puckered rear hole. He had yet to fuck her there, but this was a situation he meant to rectify soon. Today, perhaps, depending on her response to what he was about to do.

He rolled the butt plug in his palm. It was a sleek beast made of white silicone, wide enough to offer a challenge, but not so much so that she would not be able to tolerate it. He did not expect her to like it, though. At least, not at first.

He snapped open a sachet of lubricant, smeared a generous portion on the plug, and the rest he applied to the tight knot of muscle.

Brenna gasped as soon as she felt the cool liquid and turned her head as though to argue. He met her gaze, the warning clear. She clamped her lips shut.

“I will not harm you. You know this. But I do mean to punish you, so you will not make a fuss. You will permit this. Answer me. Yes or no?”

Her reply was some moments in coming, but eventually her muttered ‘yes’ reached him. He noted she omitted to call him ‘Sir’ this time, an oversight he might need to take up with her in due course. For now, he had weightier matters to deal with.

He pressed one finger against her rear hole and pushed. He met the resistance he anticipated. Another sharp slap to her tender bottom brought her back up on her toes.

“Do not try to fight me. Relax, and push back against my finger. You will accept what is to happen to you since there is nothing you can do to prevent it.”

He thought he detected a soft moan but may have been mistaken. What was certain, though, was the softening of her resistance. He pressed again and his finger slid into her, as far as the first knuckle.

He pulled it out, spread a little more lube on, then reinserted it. This time he sank the entire length into her, thrusting three or four times to ensure she knew who exactly was master here. Satisfied that she was suitably prepared, he withdrew his finger and placed the blunt nose of the butt plug against her entrance.

“This will be harder, but you will do it. Just as before, push back, relax, let it in.”

He started to push, slowly, with great care. He watched, intrigued, as her tight entrance opened, widened, stretched to accommodate the flare of the plug.

Brenna let out a small whimper, and he knew this was hurting her. He paused, gave her a few moments to process what was happening, then pressed again. She whimpered louder, but this time he did not stop until the widest part of the plug was caught in her entrance, the ring of muscle stretched tight around the intruder. With the next nudge would come a degree of comfort. The plug would be seated tight inside, her tortured entrance permitted to close again around the narrower neck, leaving enough outside for him to grasp and remove the toy when the time came.

He waited, let her become used to the sensation of being stretched, her rear hole forced wide. The butt was more or less the same girth as his cock, so if she could tolerate this, she could accept him. She may not think so, would no doubt protest until his ears burned, but the physical proof was here before his eyes.

And if ever a woman needed to be fucked in her arse, it was Brenna Blærdóttir.

He took hold of the finger grip and twisted the plug to the left, then the right. Brenna hissed, but seemed to be coping.

Better to check. He leaned over and murmured in her ear.

“Are you all right? Tell me if this is too much.” He twisted the plug again.

“I… I think… I’m okay.” Her voice was breathy, but strong.

“Good. You are doing well, little one.” He kissed the nape of her neck, then straightened to ease the plug deeper. It slid fully inside, and the ring of muscle closed around it like a glove.

She had barely finished her sigh of relief when he dragged the plug back out to stretch her entrance again. Brenna groaned and laid her face against the rail.

“Is that a moan of pleasure, my Brenna? Do you like having your arse fucked like this?” He pushed it home again, then pulled it back out, repeating the strokes twice more while she clung to the rail, gasping.

“Answer me. Do you like this?” he pressed her. “You may speak.”

“It feels strange.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Not… not hurting, exactly…”

He allowed himself a wry smile. She seemed uncertain. He would fix that, but not quite yet.

“Ready for more of your spanking?”

She managed a nod.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Sir, I’m ready.”

He inserted the plug fully then picked up the belt again and resumed his earlier stance. The leather whistled through the air and landed across her plugged bottom with a resounding crack.

Brenna cried out, though not, he thought, in pain. The plug changed things, created a new level of intimacy between them and focused her senses on something other than the spanking. Pleasure and pain were starting to merge, to amplify each other.

He struck her again and again. Each time she emitted a sound more like a grunt than a scream. He paused to swipe his hand across her pussy and came away drenched.

Brenna swayed slowly from side to side. She was panting, her breathing rapid. She spread her legs wider, silently asking him to touch her again.

Soon, sweet wench.

He laid the next two strokes on her thighs, ramping up the pain by careful increments. By the time he set the belt aside again she was almost sobbing.

“Would you like me to help you, Brenna? Do you need to come?”

She nodded, her movements jerky, frantic almost.

“Tell me. No, ask me. Ask me very nicely.”

“P-please, Sir, I need to come. Will you help me?”

He did not reply. Instead, he reached around her with his free hand and laid the pad of his middle finger on her clit. He grasped the finger grip and started to work the plug in and out while he traced slow, lazy circles around and across the sensitive nub.

“Oh, God…!”

“No more talking without permission. Twenty-two strokes.” He increased the pressure on her clit, enjoying the gasps and moans of pleasure as she writhed under his hands.

Her orgasm was sudden and powerful. He continued to stroke her clit and drive the plug in and out of her arse until the final shudders died away. Then he pushed it home again and stood back to admire the sight.

“You look so pretty with a plug in your arse, my Brenna. It is fortunate that I keep a ready supply on board. I see no reason why you should not be plugged most of the time, since we are quite alone here.”

She turned her face to look at him, and he detected a hint of true surrender in her beautiful brown eyes. He really should have plugged her arse years ago. They might have avoided much of the difficulty that had beset their relationship. He reached for the belt again.

The final five strokes were swift and hard. She no longer cried out, though her body jerked with each new welt and she grunted as the breath was expelled from her lungs. Again he tested her wetness, again his palm came away soaked.

This time when he set the belt aside he grasped her hips and pulled her back toward him. “Spread. Wide.”

She shuffled her feet apart, and he lost no time in loosening the button of his jeans and pulling down the zip. His swollen cock found freedom at last and sprang forward, solid, demanding. He positioned the glistening crown at her entrance and with no further ado filled her with one deep thrust.

Now she did let out a scream, though not one of pain. Her inner muscles clamped hard around him, gripping, caressing.

Audun ground his teeth together and fought for control. His balls twisted and spasmed. Intense, bone-deep pleasure flared then erupted. It would be so easy. He need only move, just once, just one, deep, satisfying thrust would end it. With a groan and a muttered oath he reined in his own response to concentrate on hers. He was aware of the solid hardness of the plug, the increased pressure as it snuggled against his cock, just the slender membrane separating her two full channels.

“Brenna…?” he managed. “Is this okay?”

“It’s… too much. I can’t…”

“Trust me.” He set the tip of his finger against her clit once more, and with an effort of will forced himself to remain still and allow her to respond to his feather-light caress.

She calmed. Her breathing slowed, became shallower. Her muscles softened and her knees started to collapse again. Audun supported her, his arm about her waist, and he pleaded with any god who might be sympathetic to his plight that he might manage to hang on a few seconds more.

Someone must have been listening, because his balls ceased their greedy clenching long enough for him to experience the exquisite sensation as her pussy trembled and convulsed along the length of his cock. She cried out, this time in pure ecstasy, her head back, her voice floating across the sun-kissed waves as her body danced to his tune.

He waited until the final tremors faded and she hung limp in his arms. One thrust, then a second. He came on the third, his own shout echoing over the water as his semen filled her.