Captured by the Berserkers

Willow

 

The abbey lay on the hip of the curving road. I followed the path, hurrying to be sure I reached its large oak doors before the bell tolled for evening prayers. Whenever the friar sent me on an errand to the village, he gave me strict warnings to return before sunset. Tonight, I hurried not only to escape his punishment but to outrun the almost-full moon. I needed to be hidden well away before it rose and brought the sickness upon me.

Lost in my thoughts, I startled when a shadow fell across my path.

“Good evening”,” a deep voice murmured, right at my back. I let out a shriek and dropped my basket.

Two large men stood on the edge of the path. Warriors, though they bore no weapons I could see. Both massive, with broad shoulders and great muscled arms, but, somehow, I hadn’t noticed them standing there until they spoke. Even now, they seemed to blend with the sun-dappled forest as they loomed over me.

“Calm yourself, lass. I did not mean to scare you.” One of them, a redhead with hair to his shoulders, stooped and picked up my basket.

“You don’t need to try to scare women, Leif,” the second warrior grunted. “Your face scares them enough.”

The redhead, Leif, didn’t take his eyes from me.

“My apologies, lass.” He spoke with a strange accent but a bit of a lilt I recognized from the Highlands, a mountainous area many leagues from the abbey.

Hands trembling, I took the basket and clutched it to my chest. The warriors’ gaze swept up and down my form, lingering on my breasts. They kept their distance. If they made any move, I would drop my burden again and run to the abbey doors, a race no doubt I would lose.

“You’re not too frightened?” Leif cocked his head to the side. He had an open, honest face, a scar marking his chin, and a full, lush mouth.

When I shook my head, he flashed an arrogant smile. “See, Brokk? She’s a brave little thing. I wager it’s your ugly face tying her tongue.” He gave me a wink.

My cheeks heated.

“Don’t embarrass her,” Brokk muttered, the stern set of his mouth contrast to his partner’s cocky grin.

“And miss the pretty color in her cheeks? Like the bloom of a rose.” When Leif smirked again, I caught a quick flash of fang. His canines curved over his lower teeth. “You’re lovely, lass.”

My lips parted. My heart fluttered like a bird caught in a briar.

The second warrior cleared his throat. He wasn’t as handsome as his companion, but his blunt features and glowering brow had their own arresting charm. “Leif thinks he has a way with women. I will not let him keep you long,” Brokk assured me, though at the word “keep” I took a step back.

With a low, soothing sound, the warriors hemmed me in. My head craned upwards to take in one stern, one smiling face.

I clutched my basket tighter. The warriors blocked my escape, but for some reason, I felt no fear. My body warmed further still, responding to the heat emanating from them.

“Can I help you, sirs?” I rasped. My dry throat worked to get the words out. Maybe, if I stayed polite, they would let me go.

“Do you live yonder?” Brokk nodded to the abbey, his voice gruff but kind.

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?” Leif asked.

“It’s Willow,” I whispered.

“Willow.” Leif rolled my name on his tongue, and I felt a prickle between my legs. My nipples throbbed.

“Willow,” Brokk echoed, and his face softened a little.

The ache in my breasts increased, and wetness trickled from my nether lips.

Leif raised his head and drew in a deep breath. Both warriors pierced me with the look of a predator fixing on its intended prey. I swayed between them, caught in their bright-yellow gaze.

My desire blazed to life, followed by fear.

“I should not be here,” I blurted. “I should not be talking to you.” The friar warned me and my sister orphans against strange men. Whenever he caught one of us speaking to any in the village, all of us bore the punishment.

It would be night soon, complete with the dreaded full moon.

“I need to go,” I whispered. “Please.”

For a moment, I thought they would not let me leave, but then Leif stepped away, giving me a clear path to the abbey.

“Take care, Willow,” Brokk said in his gentle rumble.

“We’ll watch over you,” Leif added. “Make sure you get safely to the door. After all, there are dangerous men about.”

My heart dropped to my feet, and he winked at me again.

For second, his eyes seem to pulse with a golden light. It faded, leaving an ordinary man. Ordinary except for the handsome face, the strapping neck, the fine muscles stretching the leather jerkin he wore.

With a small nod, I scrambled the rest of the way home.

*

Inside, the wall propped me up as I pressed a hand over my breast, willing my heartbeat to slow. I’d never had such a response to a man before, not even to Joseph, the village blacksmith’s apprentice who always smiled at me. I held my hands out and watched them tremble. Something about those warriors, the way they couldn’t take their eyes off me…my body buzzed, blood roaring. I felt I’d waited all my life to meet those men.

What was happening to me? I should’ve asked the warriors where they’d come from, and their purpose. I should’ve done something besides stand there like a fool, my face flushed and my heart racing.

Light filtered through the colored window above me, staining my hands red. What a fool. My encounter meant nothing. Warriors on a journey had found brief entertainment frightening a scrawny girl. As soon as they laughed over the encounter, they’d forget me.

Me? I’d think about them, and my wicked, sinful flesh would burn for days. In cool darkness, I slipped along the stone floor and passed through the sanctuary, head bowed against the cold marble stares of the saints. I’d visited the sanctuary often enough I’d memorize their faces. Perfect, and high above me. A good girl would do penance on her knees for even speaking to such a pair of such fine men. As for the thoughts I’d had when trapped between their large strapping bodies…I could never do enough penance to atone.

On a whim, I set my basket down and approached the likeness of Mother Mary. The statue stood at the front altar, her expression serene and pure. When younger, I’d pretended she was my real mother. I’d prayed for answers, for relief from the sickness I’d endured since becoming a woman. The Church taught suffering purged the soul. Even my prayers were sinful, the desperate begging of a weak woman.

Why am I like this? How long must I suffer? I found no answers in the beautiful, carven face.

“Willow,” a low voice called. A young woman crept from the shadows. Sage, my closest friend among all the orphans. She and I had been brought to the abbey around the same time. We shared a similar height and slim build. Despite my dark hair and her fair locks, we could have been sisters.

“Did you finish the errand?”

“Yes,” I kept my voice down so it would not echo in the cavernous space. I’d asked the nuns once why the statues of the saints got to live in such a beautiful open area while we shared beds in the dormitory. It took a few rounds of discipline before I understood the Church allowed luxury to the rich and the dead.

“Are you coming to Vespers?” she asked.

“No, I cannot. It is almost a full moon.”

Sage nodded. She suffered the same sickness I did, though less frequently, while mine grew worse every month.

“Here.” She handed me a handkerchief wrapped around a few oatcakes. The nuns did not allow us to eat if we did not go to prayers, but I had to hide away to suffer in silence when the moon rose.

“I still must visit the friar.” I gestured to the basket I’d fetched for him.

Sage picked it up. “I will do it.”

“He has been grumpy ever since Hazel disappeared.”

“I’ll be all right.” Sage lifted her chin.

Without a word, I raised her sleeve and studied the bruises there. The marks came from a man’s grip on her pale, thin arm. There would be more on her legs, but she would hate my pity more than she hated the friar’s illicit touch.

I released her sleeve. “The shopkeeper gave us a fair price for the herbs. He wants more of the tincture you made for backaches.”

With a tight smile on her lovely face, Sage nodded and slipped away. I prayed again, this time hoping the friar would be happy with the earnings she brought. The wool and weavings the orphans spun and the produce we harvested paid our way, though the friar always found a reason to complain about our cost to him. Only Sage could soothe him. He preferred young blonde things. God help the younger girls if he ever tired of Sage.

I scoffed at my own joke. I’d lived in the abbey long enough to know God did not help orphans.

A red sun sank in the sky as I hurried across the gardens, accompanied by the sweet singing of the nuns. A few years ago, I’d close my eyes and imagine my mother sang to me. A pretty dream, for she’d given me up almost as soon as she birthed me.

I slipped behind the mulberry bushes and picked the lock of an old shed. Inside, behind a few barrels used for dyeing cloth, Sage and I had wrapped a chain and set of shackles around a large rock. In a few minutes, I would bind myself there and wait for the fever to take my mind.

The shack sat back in the woods, near a gurgling brook, the forest sounds enough to cover the moans and cries escaping my throat when the fever reached its peak. No one should be out in the gardens this late, but, just in case, Sage would do her best to keep everyone away.

Willow of the abbey

I set the oatcakes down, too nervous to eat. I should kneel and pray. Instead, I paced. During the next few hours, I would bind myself in such a way I would not be able to touch between my legs, but the ache would become unbearable, my mind tormented with dreams of hands upon my body, caressing my flesh. In the morning, Sage would come and free me from my fevered sleep.

My body already simmered, the excitement a result of speaking to the warriors earlier. The thought of them caused heat to burst through me, a throbbing warmth leaving a slight trickle of wetness between my legs. The first spark would turn into an ember and light the fire that would become a blazing inferno.

One day, I would have the courage to talk to a man and flirt with him as Leif had with me. We’d slip into the forest and press against each other, his large hands eager and possessive on my skin. Afterwards, we would lie together on the forest floor, curled as close as petals in a rosebud.

With a sigh, I picked up the shackles. The cold iron stung my hands.

A clink of metal on metal made me still. The sound didn’t come from the fetters I held, but from outside. Someone had found my hiding place.

I waited, holding my breath, but no one burst into the shack. The friar had become more surly and suspicious since our fellow orphan Hazel disappeared. She had just come into heat and had the courage to defy him. We assumed he’d sold her off to a husband, but no one knew for sure. The friar had struck Sage when she’d worked up the courage to ask.

Dusky light shone through the cracks in the shack. Twilight approached. If caught now, I could claim I’d been searching for the dye barrel. After setting the shackles down, I eased the door open, stepped into the dim evening, and froze.

Rank upon rank of giant warriors closed in on the abbey. They crept across the grounds without a sound. They all had weapons, axes or daggers worn at their belts. The dying light showed their hands to be free.

I gathered myself to scream. A rough palm closed over my mouth. I let out a muffled shriek.

“Hello, Willow,” a voice rasped in my ear.

Disbelieving, I stilled. The voice and strong arms locked around me belonged to the redheaded warrior. His black-haired friend stood at his side, frowning.

“Get her out of here.” Brokk jerked his head.

My protests muffled by Leif’s large hand, I kicked and fought as much as I could, to no effect. The warrior swung me up, arms still clamped around me, and dragged me deeper into the woods.

“Stay calm now, lass.” Red locks tickled my cheek as he whispered in my ear. “You’re safe now. Danger is coming to the abbey, but we’ll get your friends out.”

Danger?

Why would battle-hardened warriors attack an abbey full of innocent women and girls? Had the friar cheated someone and incurred a lord’s wrath?

Despite my struggles, the warrior carried me into the woods until the trees crowded my view of the abbey, its turret shining with the last light of day. I went limp against him, hoping he would let down his guard. Perhaps I could still escape to warn Sage. She would be in the dormitory now, reading to the little ones, or perhaps setting out a tankard of ale for the friar to drink, in hopes he’d get too drunk to bother her. Around midnight, she’d slip out to check on me. She wouldn’t find me.

Of course, by then, she’d be taken, too.

Throat tight, I sobbed silently against Leif’s hand.

“Shh, lass, it’s all right.” He set me down but kept me clamped against his broad chest. “You’re in danger. You and the other spaewives. We’ve come to rescue you.”

I let my eyes close and legs sag as if I’d fainted. Leif propped me up, but when he tried to turn me into a less awkward hold, I broke from his arms.

After a few steps, he caught me fast. I went crazy, flailing in an attempt to get free. Not for myself. They’d captured me, but if I could get close enough to the abbey and scream loud enough to warn Sage and the others…

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Leif grunted, lifting me again. His large hand closed around my throat. He squeezed in warning, and though he did not cut off my air, his grip silenced me. Brokk hovered close.

“Put her down. Quickly. Bind her. We cannot risk her warning any guards who might be about.”

“Stay calm,” Leif shook me. “You’re in no danger as long as you obey.” He pinned me belly down on the forest floor, holding my wrists at the small of my back. Before I could scream, Brokk jammed something into my mouth.

“This isn’t going the way I wanted,” Leif muttered.

I panted and cried as they finished binding me. Then Leif sat back with me in his arms.

“There, now. Safe and secure.”

I glared at him, trying to push the bitter-tasting leather from my mouth. A growl sounded in my throat. False bravado—the rest of me shook.

“You going to fight me, Willow?” The warrior teased my hair from my face with surprising gentleness. I thrashed, throwing off his touch.

“Stop,” Brokk ordered, squatting close. His command stilled me. “We will not allow you to hurt yourself.” The sharpness in his tone and gaze warned me to behave.

“We’re not here to harm you,” Leif repeated.

I blinked at them. I sat trussed and gagged and trembling. A young maiden captured in the woods by two warriors. Limbs numb, skin covered in goose bumps. My light summer dress provided no protection from a chill in the air strange for a late summer night.

“You’ll want to know why we are here,” Leif interpreted. “Fear not. It’ll all be brought to light.”

A scream shattered the still air. It came from the abbey.

“Damn, damn.” Leif hauled me up.

“Go to the meeting place. I’ll catch up,” Brokk told him, and ran back to join the other warriors.

I dug my heels into the dirt, but Leif hauled me over his shoulder. His large hand smacked my bottom when I struggled again.

“None of that now,” he said. I went limp again, the fight truly gone out of me this time. Straining to raise my head, I could only watch as Brokk and his fearsome comrades advance to attack my home.

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She’ll be ours forever…

Long ago, a witch turned us into monsters. Our only hope is to wait for the woman who could lift the curse.

A century later, we find her. Willow. Our miracle. She’s hidden away in an abbey full of orphans, while evil men plot to sell her as a bride.

We’ll break her out. But she’ll remain captive to her desires until we set her free…

*Author’s Note: This is a MFM full-length ménage romance. There are no M/M scenes, just TWO hot, dominant warriors who claim the same woman…

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For over a hundred years, the Berserker warriors have fought and killed for kings. There is but one enemy we cannot defeat: the beast within.

Read the complete Berserker Saga to see what fans are raving about…

Sold to the Berserkers
Mated to the Berserkers
Bred by the Berserkers – free book at leesavino.com
Taken by the Berserkers
Given to the Berserkers
Claimed by the Berserkers
Rescued by the Berserker
Captured by the Berserkers
Kidnapped by the Berserkers…coming soon

#SATSpanks Given to the Berserkers

This is from my latest release!

***

“Fergus! What are you doing?” I squirmed but he pinned me easily, shifting me so my bum draped right over his legs. He smacked it again and I squawked, though it didn’t hurt at all.

“Punishing ye,” he said, and I could hear the grin in his tone. “This is how wolves discipline their naughty mates.” His hand roamed over my naked flesh, squeezing my plump cheeks.

“It doesn’t hurt very much–Ow!”

His palm connected with my right buttcheek, hard enough to sting. I reared up but didn’t go far, as Fergus pushed me down with a strong hand. “And another to balance ye out.” Another smack rang out and I jerked my hands back to cover my now stinging backside.

My love caught my wrists and held them in the small of my back.

“Enough, Fergus, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Ah, but now I am enjoying myself.” His free hand went back to massaging my bottom, reducing the sting. He continued like that, alternating his caresses with a light spanking. I whimpered once or twice, but submitted to his ministrations. As the playful  punishment went on, my cunny began to pulse with each firm smack. Burying my face in the pelts, I let my legs creep together so Fergus would not see the wetness at their apex.

Of course, Fergus noticed right away.

“What’s this, lass? I think you’re enjoying your discipline as much as me.”

“I am not,” I protested, but his fingers slipped through my secret folds and then showed me the juice collected on them.

“Lying lassies get their bottoms smacked.”

***

Captured to be a prize in the brutal Berserker Games…

My life changed forever when the Berserkers took me. These fearsome warriors must find women to keep their lethal rage at bay…and I am an ideal mate.

The Alphas decree that all warriors must compete in a series of Highland Games for my hand. Of all the giant warriors, two have caught my eye, but I have no choice. When the final match is over, I will belong to the ruthless victors. They will possess me fully. I can only hope they will be the two I could come to love…

Given to the Berserkers is a standalone, full-length MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman.

★ “Hotter than Hades in the middle of the summer” ★
★“Fast paced, great fighting sequences and hot menage’ fireworks”★

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***

Check out the rest of #SatSpanks!

Training time: Given to the Berserkers

 

“All, right, my lovely. It’s time to begin your training.”

“Training?” Still naked, I wrapped my arms loosely around my bare form. The look Fergus shot me was wicked.

“Bend over the bed.”

I hurried to obey.

“Such a fine arse. Not too small, not to plump. And a lovely red color. Spread your legs, sweet one.” I rocked from one foot to the other, opening my stance. “Good lass. Now part your bottom cheeks for me.”

“Fergus—”

A smack on my behind had me hastening to comply. Flushing red as my punished backside, I spread my cheeks and showed him my bottom hole.

“Now there’s a lovely sight,” Fergus said with satisfied awe.

My face burned hot against the bed. Something hard and unyielding touched my back pucker, pushing in so it stretched the tight ring of muscle.

“This is a plug. I carve it out of wood for naughty lassies to wear when they’ve disobeyed. You’ll keep it in, and it will stretch ye to take us.”

My grip tightened on the pelts. “Fergus…please…:”

“Relax. Take a deep breath in. Now blow out.” As air left my lungs, he pushed the bulb in all the way. After the widest part went through, it narrowed sharply, easing the strain.

“There.”

He worked it in and out while I stifled a whimper.

“How do ye feel?”

I grunted in response. The thing in my backside felt strange but not quite unpleasant. My nipples were as hard as pebbles against the bed.

“Touch yourself.”

“Please…do not make me.”

“If ye cannot, then I will.” He checked me and laughed. “Soaked. Just as I thought.”

“This is not right.”

He dropped a kiss on my bottom cheek. “It is exactly right. Soon ye’ll be able to wear this in your bottom from morn to night.”

“All day?”

“Of course. So we can claim ye whenever we want.”

He twisted the dreadful thing home. “Stand up now, Muriel. Ye can suck me off before ye continue with your chores.”

Captured to be a prize in the brutal Berserker Games…

My life changed forever when the Berserkers took me. These fearsome warriors must find women to keep their lethal rage at bay…and I am an ideal mate.

The Alphas decree that all warriors must compete in a series of Highland Games for my hand. Of all the giant warriors, two have caught my eye, but I have no choice. When the final match is over, I will belong to the ruthless victors. They will possess me fully. I can only hope they will be the two I could come to love…

Given to the Berserkers is a standalone, full-length MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman.

CLICK TO READ MORE

 

Given to the Berserkers

 

Prologue

 

“Muriel,” someone was calling my name and tugging on my arm. I opened my eyes, squinting against my throbbing headache. “Wake up,” my sister said in a trembling whisper.

“What is it, Fleur?” I groaned. “Did the fire go out? Where’s Sabine?”

“She disappeared, remember? We have not seen her for a day and a night.” Fleur was speaking, but I barely heard her as I sat up and stared through the bars of a cage. Where I expected the walls of our home and the stone hearth, there was only forest.

“What is this?” I whispered. We sat in the center of a wooden cage made of branches as tall as a man and twice as long, lined with fur pelts. Beyond the bars, figures moved around a bonfire. A few men accompanied by giant dogs.

Fleur huddled closer to me. “They came in the night,” she whispered. “Do you remember? They burst into the hut and grabbed us.”

“I remember.” My head ached but I recalled the dark shapes looming over us. I’d leapt to my feet, wielding a small knife my older sister Sabine made me carry. One of the warriors had caught the blade in his hand.

“Careful,” he had laughed, wrenching the weapon from me even as blood dripped from his palm, “this one is a fighter. She has a little tooth.”

“Get away from me,” I’d shrieked. My defiance lasted as long as it took for one of the huge warriors to catch and force me down. I struggled on the floor, craning my neck to look back at Fleur. My twin sister was often sick, and weaker than I was. She’d shrunk back on the bed when three warriors converged on her. “Leave us alone!”

“Be quiet, and we won’t hurt you.” The warrior binding my wrists had covered my head with a sack and hefted me up. We were moving, moving, out of the hut and into the night. I’d screamed and struggled with all my might. The warrior carrying me slung me down, and—

Blackness. I remembered nothing more.

“What happened?” I asked my sister without taking my eyes off the men in the clearing. The huge warriors were cutting down more trees and adding logs to the fire.

“I don’t remember much after they came in and took us. I must have hit my head.”

“The man struck you so you slept,” Fleur said. “But I stayed awake the whole time. They carried us here, faster than any man can run. I know you won’t believe me…”

 Fleur often had visions and dreams during the day, fantastical things she shared only with me. Often she saw things that weren’t real, and asked me about them. With my help, she didn’t speak of things that no one else saw. Otherwise, the villagers might call her fey, and kill her for it.

“I believe you,” I said, holding her tighter. “This is real. This is happening.” The men at the bonfire were more frightening when they stepped into the light than when they stood in shadow. Massive and muscular, they wore the garb of warriors and carried great weapons, from axes and bows, to daggers and swords.  Though larger than any man I’d ever seen, they moved like predators, with smooth, quick grace. One of our captors walked out of the woods wearing only a loincloth, and carrying a giant log over his shoulder as if it weighed no more than a stick. He shrugged it off onto a growing pile, and joined a group that stood studying us in the cage. Amid the men roamed a few giant beasts that I thought were dogs, but for their size and the intelligence in their bright gold eyes.

Fleur and I huddled together amid this nightmare.

“Who are they?” I asked in despair. My teeth chattered, more with fear than cold.

“Wolves.” Fleur pointed out two of the warriors standing guard. Not more than a minute passed without them glancing back at us. I noticed they seemed particularly interested in Fleur, and I  squeezed her tighter. “See those two? They took turns carrying me. They told me a witch cursed them with great strength and speed, but with the curse came the rage of a ravening beast. I didn’t understand until I saw one of them, that third one, there, turn from man into a wolf.” The beast she pointed out was massive, bigger than any dog or wolf I’d ever seen. With its midnight fur and eyes shining in the firelight, it seemed a demon creature.

It hadn’t stopped staring at Fleur.

“What do they want with us?”

“The warriors told me they have no women. They took us because they need mates.”

I forced my disbelieving gaze from the giant beasts and warriors, to stare into Fleur’s pale eyes. My normally pale sister looked even more wan and tired, with great circles under her eyes. But I knew she was telling the truth.

“How is this possible?”

“A prophecy foretold of a race of women they could mate with. Muriel… they have Sabine.”

“She’s here? Alive?” Our older sister had disappeared a few nights before. I sagged back onto the pelts, overcome with the first good news I’d had all night.

Fleur nodded and lay down with me. “They took her first. She’s to mate with the two Alphas.”

My forehead wrinkled. “Two of them?”

“They sometimes mate with women in pairs.”

I closed my eyes. My head hurt again, and not because of the tender bump on my skull.

“Do you think she’s all right?” I’d often been at odds with my older sister, but she’d always looked after us since our mother died. We had another sister, Brenna, older than all of us, but she, too, had disappeared.

“I think Sabine is fighting them. But they laughed about it and said that one way or another, the Alphas will tame her. And then…” Fleur’s voice died away, but she didn’t have to finish the sentence.

After Sabine was mated, it would be our turn.

Dawn came, and despite fear churning in my stomach and a raw feeling in my gullet, I dozed.

When I woke, the crowd of warriors had thinned. There were only three warriors left—the men who had carried Fleur, and their companion in wolf form.

Someone had left a skin of water just outside the bars. I waited as long as I could, but finally threaded my arm through the bars and took it. I sniffed it carefully but smelled no taint or poison. If these warriors had any reason to kill us, they could simply snap our necks. With that bleak reasoning, I didn’t hesitate to drink from the skin.

The wind shifted and the smoke blew into our cage. Fleur started coughing in her sleep. I moved to block the foul breeze, but she kept coughing. Her lungs had never been very strong.

Would that Sabine were here. She was smart and brave, and had a little magic. She would demand our captor bring her what she needed to make Fleur medicine, and would not stop standing up to them until we were all free. 

I’d wrapped my arms around my legs and pressed my head to my knees., when a voice hissed close to my ear.

I raised my head and looked straight into golden eyes. A reddish wolf, so red I would’ve thought it was a fox if it hadn’t been so large, sat panting not five handspans from where I sat within the cage.

I watched in wonder as a ripple of magic split the air. The beast’s form shimmered, and then in place of the wolf crouched a man, naked but for a loincloth.

If Fleur had not explained the night before, I would’ve thought I was crazed or still dreaming, but the man looked real enough. He was young and sturdy, with a pale muscled chest and legs. The only resemblance to the wolf was his tousled red hair.

He grinned at me, and placed a finger to his lips, gesturing for me to stay silent. I glanced back at the warriors guarding us, and they all were focused on the fire. The smoke still blew in our direction. Turning my back on them, I nodded to the red-haired warrior. For some reason he didn’t want to be seen, and his secret was safe with me.

His grin widened, displaying sharp incisors. He beckoned me closer.

For some reason, I obeyed, sliding on the pelts to tuck myself against the side of the wooden prison.

“Muriel?” His low voice was rough, but I recognized my name when he repeated, “Are ye Muriel?”

Gaping at him, I nodded.

“Are ye sure, lass?” he asked. “I have a message for Muriel, and I dinnae want to tell it wrong.”

Licking my lips, I found my voice. “I am Muriel. Who are you? What’s going on?”

“You’ve been taken by Berserkers, warriors cursed to live as beasts. Ye were stolen by the Lowland Pack. I am Fergus of the Highland Pack. My pack and this pack dinnae get along.”

That explained his secrecy.

“You have a message for me?”

“Aye. My Alphas promise ye that ye will not be harmed. Soon ye will be free.” He crept closer, crouching next to the bars. If I put my hand out, I could touch him.

“‘Tis not wise for me to come out of hiding, but ye looked so sad. I wanted to reassure ye.” He had a splash of light freckles across his nose.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“I cannae stay long. I’m only here because the wind shifted. They willnae scent me as long as I’m downwind.”

“Please, will you let us out?”

“I cannot. Not until I know ye are safe. Do ye know why you’re in a cage?”  

I glanced back at the fire, but our guards were still distracted. “To keep us from getting out?”

“No, to keep the monsters from getting in.”

I wanted to close my eyes, lie down and go to sleep, and forget all this as a dream. Instead I studied Fergus. With his freckles and teasing manner, he could be a youth from my village, except for his rugged, handsome looks, and the magic that made him a wolf.

“Why did they take us? Why are we here?”

“They need brides.”

Fleur had relayed the truth. I gripped the bars harder, and clenched my jaw to fight the tears.

Fergus looked stricken. “Now, lass, don’t cry,” the warrior crooned. “”Twill be all right.”

“I don’t know how…I don’t know what to do.”

“Help is on the way. I swear on my life, I will get ye out. Dinnae worry your wee head.”

After a shuddering breath, I nodded.   

“The wind is shifting. If they scent me, I’ll be caught.”

“Don’t go,” I begged.

He tilted his head. His shoulders were also dusted with freckles. “Ye aren’t afraid of me, wee one?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. “Please.”

“I won’t stray far. I’ll make sure ye dinnae come to harm. This pack is dangerous, but the more unstable wolves have orders to stay away from ye.”

He changed before my eyes, the masculine features distorting into the maw of a reddish wolf. I jerked back, but he was already gone, only the tremor of a leaf on a low-hanging branch evidence of where he had been.

I clutched at Fleur, but she was asleep, her cheeks wan and pale, her body shaking with coughs. Tears streamed out of my eyes–from the smoky air, I told myself. Not because I was afraid.

A warrior walked into the clearing. Pale and blond, he stood a head taller than the others, and towered over them when they bowed their heads.

“Arne, Erik,” he greeted the men, and then the wolf. “Gunnr.” He had a strange accent but spoke in a level, cultured voice. I’d almost think him a lord from some far off court, but he tilted his head and sniffed the wind, and I saw the predator in him.

“Alpha,” the warriors greeted him, and his head jerked towards our cage.

Inspiration for Fergus: actor Sam Heughan

“What is this?” the blond Alpha asked his men. “I smell a wolf. And not one of our pack.”

“I smell it too.” The warrior named Arne growled.

Fear flashed through me. They would track Fergus, and all would be lost.

I moved to the far side of the cage, opposite where I had sat with Fergus.

“Hey,” I cried out. “You there.” Gripping the branch bars, I tried to shake them. Fleur coughed again in her sleep, the perfect distraction.

The warriors’ attention swung to me. My body was numb with fear, with cold, and now with anger.

“My sister is sick. She may be dying, if I cannot get her the herbs she needs.”

The tall blond approached. Crouching he ducked his head to meet my gaze. His eyes were bright gold.

I waited for him to speak but he only cocked his head to the side.

“Did you hear me?” Fury supplied my words. “You captured both of us—and soon one will die. If she goes…I will make you pay.” I did not know how. My cheeks were frozen from my old tears, or were they new?

“Threats for your captors?” the Alpha murmured. “I wonder what makes you so bold?”

“It’s the enemy, Ragnvald,” answered one of the guards—Erik. The second and third, in wolf form, stood at the forest edge, whining and pawing the earth where Fergus had been.

They paced along one side of the cage, and shivers worked up my spine.

“He was here. One of the Highland Pack. If we go now, we can track him.”

I stared up into the leader’s face, silently pleading.

“No,” he said finally. “Let him go. If plans hold, the Highland Pack will not be our enemies for much longer.”

I held the leader’s gaze for a moment longer, then a sharp pain flashed in my head and I dropped my eyes. Power rolled through the clearing, beyond my mortal understanding, and the hair on my arms stood on end.

Fleur coughed again, breaking the spell.

“Please, my lord,” I said. “My sister truly is ill.”

“Do you know what will save her?” Erik asked in a harsh, almost guttural voice. He stalked towards the cage, eyes on Fleur’s limp body. I shrank back, but the warrior stopped when his leader lifted a hand. Every muscle in Erik’s body was taut, ready, as if at a word he would jump forward and rip apart the wooden structure.

“Yes,” I gulped. “I can find the herbs to make medicine, if you let me out.”

Fleur coughed and one of the wolves whined again.

“Alpha, please,” Erik asked in a quiet voice. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he waited for his leader to give the order.

“Very well.”

Erik reached out and sliced the bindings on one branch, so the side of the cage swung open.

“Take Gunnr and track our red intruder,” Ragnvald continued. “When you catch him, do him no harm. Tell him I wish to meet under a branch of truce, to negotiate peace with his pack.”

I did not breathe until the tense warrior was gone.

“Be at peace, Muriel,” the Alpha said. “Your sister has told me of you and your bravery. It seems even Fleur has charmed my men in less than half a day.”

The bare blue sky called to me from beyond the wooden frame, yet still I hesitated. The Alpha beckoned. “Come forth, little sister. I am Ragnvald, Alpha of the Lowland Pack. I swear I will not hurt you.”

“I am not your sister,” I said.

“No,” Ragnvald said, amused. “But when Sabine accepts her place at my side, you will be.”

Heart beating fast, I ducked through the opening. The Alpha of the Lowland Pack swept out his hand, ushering me into my new life.

***

Nine moons later…

I saw the wolf through the branches of the berry bush. Large and reddish with a white splash on his tail, he sat with his tongue lolling out, watching me.

With a smile, I turned back to the waiting branch and picked another handful of berries for my lunch.  

A subtle wind lifted my skirts and brought a fresh, open scent–like the earth after spring rain. Leaves crunched under someone’s foot–the sound too slight to notice unless I was waiting to hear it.

A pair of large, rough hands covered my eyes.

“Guess who,” the Scottish brogue tickled my ear.

“Fergus,” I whirled with a grin, and took in the young warrior, his handsome face and broad, muscled shoulders making my mouth water.

He stood bare-chested and unashamed, wearing nothing but a loincloth around his nethers. The pink in his cheeks was the only sign that he was affected by the slight chill.

I cleared my throat, ducking my head to hide my blush. “You should not be here…and I cannot see you like this.”

“I cannae carry clothes wherever I go. My wolf likes to run unencumbered.” His voice dropped to a seductive rumble, “Look at me, Muriel.”

I did as he bid, raising my gaze to meet his clear blue ones. I watched in fascination as the magic within him took hold and turned his eye color to bright gold.

“I’ve missed ye, lass.”

“And I’ve missed you,” I whispered.  Much had changed since we’d first met, exchanging names through the bars of the cage. My sisters and I lived with the Berserkers, less as captives and more as prized guests. Tensions between the packs had died down, but there were still treaties and negotiations. Fergus acted often as a go-between, and so even though I was with the Lowland Pack, I saw him often—but always in the presence of the Alphas or a few guards. Never alone, in a secret meeting, like this.

“Ye look well.”

My skin tingled as his gaze swept up and down my form, hungry.

Clearing my throat, I sought for a change in subject. We had little chance to converse beyond a look, a small touch, a carefully worded greeting. The entire pack watched over my sister and me, for we were their hope for the future. But of all the giant, forbidding warriors, only Fergus could make me laugh with his antics, and the sly, silly comments that were innocent enough, but I knew were meant for me.

“I hoped you would find me today.”

“Yes?” He took a step forward, eyes lit.

“Yes,” I backed away, blushing. “I know I am not to speak to any of the warriors because I am unmated, but I wanted to speak to you.”

“Well, then, lass.” He kept moving forward, and I kept backing away. “What did ye want to say?”

No matter how much distance I put between us, he stalked me slowly. At last he cornered me against the berry bush.  My heart beat faster, fluttering like a bird taking flight.

He raised his hand and offered me a white flower.

Warmth rushed through me. Smiling, I took hold of it by the stem. “I knew it was you.” Lately, I’d found the little white flowers everywhere. A small token that could’ve been carried by a bird, or fallen from a tree, but when I found it on a stump in the clearing near our new home, or a rock in the stream where Sabine and I washed our clothes, I’d guessed it was a gift from the red wolf. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. But I need to tell you…I wanted to warn you. You should not come so close to me. It’s not safe.”

He tilted his head, as if touched at my worry. “I dinnae care about my safety.”

“I do. Please, Fergus. I don’t want the others to find you here.”

“They willnae catch me. I am small, yes, but I am fast when I’m the wolf.”

I started to protest and he held a finger up, almost brushing my lips. “Do ye want to spend our time arguing?”

“No.”

“Then let us speak of other things.”

There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to know. I often imagined him while I lay awake at night on my pallet, pressing the white flowers he left for me to my lips.

“Does it hurt to Change?”

“Not into the wolf. The beast, our Berserker form, is brought on by extreme emotion. That can be painful, if only because of the desire to fight and rip apart the very earth. But we shall speak no more of becoming monsters.” His voice was light, but I knew he worried about the beast taking over his mind. All Berserkers were once men who were cursed with the magic of the Change. They could control the shift from man to wolf, but after decades of fighting, they eventually lost control of their monstrous third form: the beast.

To me, though, Fergus was no monster. The red-headed warrior could’ve been a boy from my village, grown up into a man I could love. I’d always imagined such a suitor courting me. We’d have a country wedding, and a sweet, simple life with each other and our children.

My life had changed but I held onto my small, sunny dream. Whenever I was with Fergus, I felt it could still come true.

I swung off my cloak and wrapped him in it.

“Walk with me?” I invited. We weren’t supposed to be near each other. War could break out if we were found together, but the pull between us couldn’t be denied.

As we ambled along the woodland path in silence, his hand clamped on my wrist over my long sleeve. I let him lead me deeper into the forest. My heart thumped, eager to find a secret place where we could strip our souls bare and be with each other, without any threat of being found hanging over our head.

“You’ve grown a little these past few moons,” he said in his beautiful, lilting voice.

“Gotten fat?” I asked with a coy look.

“No. More’s the pity. I like a wee bit of meat on my woman’s bones.”

I shook my head.

“I jest, Muriel. You’re beautiful.” His fingers brushed my cheek.

Blushing, I arched away from his caress. I’d spent nights longing to feel his fingers on my skin, pressing the white flowers to my lips. But I’d been warned not to let a Berserker touch my skin. Fergus knew this as well. In the spell of the dark, quiet forest, and each other’s presence, it was easy to forget the rules.

“Where are we going?”

His hand dropped to take hold of my wrist again. “Not much farther.”

Finally, we reached a place where little light broke between the thick branches of the towering pines. A stream ran through the heart of a grove of ferns, and here Fergus stopped. Hands spanning my small waist, he lifted me and set me on a broad, flat stone splitting the rush of water, and stepped onto it with me. Before I lost my balance, he tugged me closer, holding me in his arms like we were a couple dancing at a midsummer fair.

“Fergus,” I kept my eyes on the hard ridge of his muscle along the center of his chest. Lean and wiry, he was the smallest of his Berserker pack, but still two heads taller than me and much, much stronger. Stronger than any human in existence. “We shouldn’t be together like this. It is forbidden.”

“Muriel,” the way he breathed my name sounded like a song, a prayer. “Look at me.”

“I cannot,” I kept my gaze averted. “Sabine says I must not look any members of the pack in the eye, or risk giving great offense.”

“Any other warrior in the pack, aye. But not me. Never me. Look at me, wee one,” He gave a command and tipped my chin up with a finger.

He had eyes of a storm far off over the ocean. When the beast was upon him, they turned gold with an otherworldly light.

“I have things to say to ye, but I cannae say them yet. I haven’t the right.”

Now my cheeks were turning pink as heat poured through me in response to his touch. “Can you not say a few of them?”

“I would that I could. Some day, soon, I will. I’ll tell ye all ye want to hear, and more.” His promise sent warmth through my body. We had an ocean of difference between us–he was a Berserker of the Highland pack, and I was a captive and ward of their enemies; he was a werewolf, I was not–but in that moment we shared the same breath, the same heart.

Bowing his head, his forehead brushed mine, and his voice dropped to a deep rumble that spread tingles through me. “If I had my way, I’d show ye my thoughts as well as tell ye. Ye ken?”

I opened my mouth, and his head jerked.

“Do ye hear that, lass?”

“No.”

“Your sister calls for ye.” His tone held regret.  

“I have to go.” I whispered.

“I know.”

I pulled free a ribbon from my dress  Head bowed, I wrapped the green cloth around his bicep.  

When I stepped away, he caught my hand, pulled me back. I leaned into him, my eyes closed, and his lips brushed mine.

I smiled the rest of the walk home.

*

For the past two moons, I’d lived with Sabine in the great lodge her Alpha mates—Ragnvald and Maddox—had built for her. I wasn’t surprised when I ran to the doors and they opened before me. A dark-haired warrior, clad only in leather breeches and the tattoos that covered his bare chest, waited inside.

“Muriel,” he greeted me. “I’m glad you’ve returned. Your sister Sabine was worried you’d lost your way.”

“I did for a moment,” I told the bland truth; Fergus had led me off the path I knew. Wolves can smell a lie. “Where is my sister?”

“I was about to leave to look for you.” My older sister stood over a great table spread with drying herbs. “Where is your cloak, Muriel?”

“I must have left it in the woods.” Another half truth. Sabine frowned, and I dug in my pouch for the herb that had been my excuse to leave that morning. “Here is more feverfew. I followed the stream until I found a whole patch.”

“Ah, so your path crossed a stream. No wonder Ragnvald couldn’t track you.”

“I would’ve eventually,” Sabine’s second mate, Ragnvald, entered the lodge behind me. “I just wanted to be sure I found her before the other wolf did.”  

“There was another wolf out there? Berserker?” Sabine asked.

“I smell him on you, Muriel. You must have come close to him.”

I kept my head down and washed my hands. If I said anything, they’d scent a falsehood, and I could not give Fergus up.

“Too much coming and going between ours and the Highland Pack,” Ragnvald muttered.

“Wolves come about to catch a peek of the women who can mate with Berserkers. I know I would risk my life for a glimpse,” Maddox said to Sabine, and he tugged a lock of her honey gold hair. She slapped at him, and he laughed.

Ragnvald stayed serious. “ No more excursions out of the lodge alone,” he told me.

“I understand,” I said in a docile tone. Throughout my life I’d found I could quietly go my own way if I acted sweet and obedient.

Sabine was too stubborn to be submissive. “That’s ridiculous,” she frowned at  Ragnvald, hands on her hips. “Spring is here. You cannot keep us cooped up.”

“Just for a little while. Muriel will be leaving us, soon.”

“I thought she was to stay with us, and Fleur with our sister Brenna.” Part of the truce meant that the four of us were split evenly among the packs. Brenna was mated to the Highland pack’s Alphas, Sabine to the Lowland Pack’s. Soon, Fleur and I would have to take mates. No one had spoken of this to me, but I understood it all the same. We were still captives, even though we were treated with respect and care.

“We need to talk. Muriel, will you come here?” Ragnvald pointed to a place before him on the raised stone hearth. I went and sat with my hands in my lap. The very picture of meekness. The blond Alpha hadn’t questioned me about the strange wolf he’d scented in the woods, and I was eager to keep from raising suspicion. One slip of my tongue, and my secret meeting would be revealed. I would get in trouble and might be disciplined, but Fergus would face the Berserker’s wrath. His punishment might be death. The packs were very strict when it came to preserving their few potential mates.

I kept quiet as Ragnvald studied me.

“What’s going on? What is this about?” Sabine set down her mortar and pestle. Maddox hovered close to her, and she gave him a sharp look.  

Ragnvald spoke directly to me. “As you know, all Berserkers met at the Gathering last week.”

I nodded.

“Many things were decided there, so we might keep the peace between our packs. Two nights hence there will be a great competition.  It will be a great contest of force, battle readiness and strength. Muriel, you watch the Games. Sabine and all the Alphas will all be there to oversee them, but you will be the guest of honor.” He paused as if waiting for a response.

“I see,” I said, even though I didn’t. “I am happy to go where the treaty decrees. As always, my sister’s and I are grateful for your hospitality and protection.” Never mind that I was little more than a captive, my marriageability making me a useful pawn in the negotiations between the warring packs. If I kept quiet and remained obedient, I might be awarded more freedom. Perhaps I would see Fergus at these Games, and we could find another chance to slip away together to talk.

“The competition will decide who is the greatest Berserker among all the packs. There is a prize for the winner.”

I thought I understood. “You wish me to attend these Games so I may award the prize?”

The two Alpha’s exchanged glances.  Ragnvald came to where I sat on the hearth and crouched in front of me.

“Muriel,” he said gently, “you are the prize. You’ll be given to the winner of the Games, and he will claim you as his mate.”

For a moment the world spun. The fire burned too hot; my body flushed as if with fever. Ragnvald was still speaking, but I heard only a buzzing noise. Fergus’ voice floated through my head, a whispered promise.

Sabine’s sharp voice cut through the ringing in my ears.

“So she’s to be given away like a trophy? Bound for life to a man who wins her in a contest? You could not give her a choice?”

“We would if we could. This is what was agreed after many nights of debate,” Ragnvald explained. “The man who wins her will be the most powerful warrior in the pack. He will be worthy of a bride.”

“Bride. Such pretty words for ‘chattel’. You may as well be auctioning off a piece of meat,” Sabine raged.

“Sabine,” Maddox started.

Sabine whirled on him. “And if she refuses?”

“She cannot refuse. There is no escaping this. You knew this was coming. We all did,” Ragnvald continued in his patient, level tone.

“She might disappear in the night. Stranger things have happened.”

“We will be keeping close watch over her. Both packs have sent emissaries to guard her.”

“We’ll be watching you, also, Sabine. So you will not help her run.”

Sabine snorted in disgust. Pushing away from the table, she kicked the chair so it clattered to the floor.

Maddox followed Sabine around the room, shadowing her as she paced in a temper.

“We leave tomorrow to reach the place where the Games will be held,” Ragnvald told me.

“If she hates the warrior, can she refuse him?” Sabine asked.

Ragnvald hesitated.

“She can’t can she? She could be given to the most awful, brutish wolf in the pack, and  can do nothing to escape him. Bound for life.” Sabine spoke bitterly.

My tongue still lay heavy in my mouth, unable to move. My heart hurt. Had Fergus known what was decided for my fate? He must have had some idea. Perhaps his intent was to win the Games.

“Sabine,” Maddox came behind his mate and slid his arms around her. She twisted to face him.

“It’s not fair.”

“It is as fair as we can make it.”

“It’s fair for every warrior in the pack. But not for her.”

“Perhaps Muriel will decide that.”

Sabine shook her head. With one final look at me, she ran from the room, Maddox following close behind. I heard them murmuring in their chambers at the far end of the lodge.

I still hadn’t moved, though my hands were white where my fingers threaded tightly together.

“Muriel? Do you have anything to say?”

“My sister is very angry.”

“She wishes her life was not directed by forces outside of her control. She is a force, like a great raging river. Sometimes she moves the rocks from her path. Other times, she must eddy around them. One day she will be powerful enough that nothing will stay in her way.” Ragnvald’s handsome face held a thoughtful look.

My sister had magic. A witch’s prophecy foretold of a special race of women that carried a strain of magic to make them prime Berserker mates. So far, Sabine and Brenna have proved the prophecy true, and they expected Fleur and I to have the same ability. That was why they were so eager for us to marry within the pack.

“I always knew I must mate a Berserker,” I ventured. Ragnvald seemed to listen, he sat with a half smile, as if imagining his fiery mate. “I was hoping I would at least like whoever was chosen for my mate.”

“Little sister, know that I would’ve made things easier for you, if I could. But the Games will satisfy the warriors in both packs. Otherwise there would be war between us.” My sisters were happily mated to the Alphas of the their pack. Sabine, for all her arguing loved Maddox and Ragnvald, and Brenna had borne her two Alpha mates sons. War would threaten the love and new life, so fragile and dear to us all. “Already there are arguments and infighting over who will be awarded a Berserker bride. It’s only a matter of time that a warrior challenges another for you and they fight until they destroy each other. We are doing all we can to avoid that.”

“They are fighting…over me?”

A smile played around his mouth at my innocence. “You must understand what hope you give these men, Muriel. You and your sisters are the only women we’ve found to temper the curse. All the gold, all the bounty these warriors have fought for in the past century, nothing compares to the chance to win your hand in marriage. Believe me when I say these warriors will count it an honor to fight and bleed for you.”

I couldn’t think of what to say to that, so I stared at my hands, wishing I were braver, or stronger, or more clever tongued like Sabine.

“So whoever wins these Games I must take as a mate…like a husband?”

“In werewolf packs, a mate is more than a husband or a wife. The bond runs closer. This man, whoever he may be, will pledge himself to you and your care. He will be a devoted partner, protector, and leader, and will do everything within his power to keep you safe from all harm. Even die for you.”

I swallowed hard. Berserkers lived like warriors, fierce mercenaries always ready for battle. I’d watched them training in their camps. They fought constantly, practicing, readying themselves for war. They were rough and brutal, given to violence at any moment. It was their nature.

I would be given to such a man.

“All right,” I said finally. “I understand. Thank you.”

“Of course, little sister. We will be watching over you, and will do all we can to help you.” Ragnvald rose, and I knew he was eager to get to the bed chamber, and Sabine. The arguing had subsided, and given way to…other sounds. “Know this. Whatever wolf wins you, we can promise, he will treat you well. If he does not,  he won’t just answer to us. The Alphas would sit in judgment upon him, and he’d be lucky if we kill him ourselves, rather than give him over to the pack for them to tear him apart.”

*

Later that night, I woke to harsh voices arguing. Sabine and her two mates slept on the far side of the lodge. Try as I might to keep a blanket muffling my ears, I often overheard their lovemaking.

Tonight there was more anger than love.

“You don’t understand,” Sabine was saying. “The twins are not like Brenna and me. They were coddled, sheltered. We kept them safe at all costs.”

“We will do the same.” Ragnvald sounded amused. “You think a Berserker  cannot shield his mate from all harm? Muriel will be safer with a warrior from the pack than with any other creature on this island.”

“I fear the Berserker rage more than any other force.”

“You fear nothing, little witch,” That was Maddox. “Much to our dismay. We wish you feared us. It would be easier to make you obey.”

I imagined her swatting him away.

“You do your sister a disservice, thinking her so weak. She is stronger than you know.”

“Her strength may break her. She will obey you, and at what cost? To spend the rest of her life shackled to some brute–”

“We will make sure she is well treated by whoever wins the games.  We need her to do her duty.”

“Duty? She’s an eighteen year old girl-”

“Who has the power to bring balance and stability to the pack. These warriors have gone so long without hope of living a normal life. Living as men. The Games gives them a chance to compete for what they desire above all,” Maddox said.

“And when they see the strongest of them rewarded with a bride, they will accept his right over them,” Ragnvald continued, “otherwise, I fear they will tear each other apart challenging for Muriel’s hand. The Games will be violent, but not deadly.”

“We hope.”

“It is not right. Muriel should be able to choose. Perhaps we could wait, and see if she is like Brenna and me. Muriel may not have the magic that allows her to bond with a mate.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She’s never come into heat, as I did,” Sabine insisted.

“You were a ripe fruit ready for us to pluck. Maddox stalked you for several moons, enjoying your scent.”

“Tortured by it,” Maddox muttered.

“My point is,” Sabine sounded aggrieved. “Muriel may not be able to form a mating bond, as Brenna and I were able to. We should wait and see if her abilities grow.”

A long pause, as if the Alphas were considering it.

“No,” Ragnvald answered, finally. “There is no time.”

“All will be well, Sabine.”

“It’s not fair,” there was defeat in my sister’s voice, “She should be mated to someone she can love.”

“Perhaps, in time, she will come to love the one to whom she is given. After all, stranger things have happened. I recall a certain young woman who liked to stray from her home at night, who was taken by two Berserker warriors. She fell madly in love with them.”

“You wish, wolf,” Sabine said, but her tone was warm. A pause followed, filled with soft, passionate sounds I tried not to hear. When a low moan rose, I rolled over and clamped my blanket over my ears. Despite my worry, I smiled into the darkness.

*

“Muriel, will you help me sort these herbs?” Sabine called me from my place staring into the fire. My own small bag was full and ready for our journey.

“I don’t know what to bring,” my sister fussed over her great table. Since our talk at the hearth, she’d been in a testy mood, as if she was going to be given to the Berserkers instead of me. After a heated argument, Sabine ordered her Alphas out of the lodge, and refused to let them back in. To my surprise, they obeyed, murmuring that they’d be back when it was time to leave for the Games.

The Games….I’d spent two days trying not to think of my fate, yet my thoughts swirled endlessly, reliving the conversation with Ragnvald and imagining what the Games would be like.  Which warrior would win? In my dreams, I only saw Fergus’ face, his red hair and sparkling eyes as he came to claim me as his prize…

“What are you thinking?” Sabine asked.

I shrugged and leaned on her table, toying with a few stems of dried angelica. Sabine covered my hand with hers.

“Muriel, my powers are still growing, but if you wish to leave now,” she lowered her voice further, “I can call the witch Yseult. Her powers are greater than mine. She could help you escape.”

I gave her a sad smile. “Where would I go?”

“Anywhere, far from here. The witch could hide you for a time.”

For a moment I toyed with idea of running away with Fergus. We could build a small cabin in a forgotten corner of the island, perhaps by the sea.

My foolish dream lived only a second. There was no corner of the earth where I could hide from these warriors. When they went to hunt, they tore great stags apart with their bare hands; if I ran, I’d be much easier prey. Besides, I would never put Fergus at harm. They’d take delight in destroying him.

No one could stop these Berserkers from taking what they wanted. And they wanted me.

I shook my head. “I cannot betray the truce. I’ll be all right, Sabine. They will not mistreat me.” I offered a fervent prayer to the goddess that this would be so. “I can do my duty. It is what the pack requires.”

“Damn the pack! I wish the goddess would throw all the Berserkers in the sea.”

“No, you don’t. You’d miss them too much. At least two of them.”

“I don’t want you to sacrifice your life.”

“You did. Would you change your fate?”

“No.” Sabine gnawed her lip. “But, Muriel, remember that your fate is more than duty. You deserve to have a husband you love. I promised you once I would help you marry well, remember?”

“I remember,” I couldn’t keep the unhappiness out of my voice. I knew I was being selfish.  My sisters Sabine and Brenna had been taken against their will to become Berserker mates, and had grown to love them. But was I strong enough to do the same?

*

The next day Berserker warriors came to escort me to the place where the Games would be held. These were men from the Highland pack. I looked for Fergus, but he was not among them. Ragnvald and Maddox were coming to represent the Lowland Pack, and wherever they went, their mate went with them, so Sabine was coming too. After the Games she would take time to visit with Brenna and her new family, and relieve Fleur of some of the baby-watching duties.

I supposed I could help, too, if my new mate would allow it. My thoughts slid to Fergus. Did he like children? Would he raise them if I died birthing them? My sister had survived a difficult birth, but Sabine had told me Brenna had magic helping her. I had no magic. Would this make me an inferior mate? Would the Berserker who won me be disappointed and cast me aside? Would this threaten the peace?

My stomach churned and my foot caught my hem, making me stumble.

“Careful,” one of the Berserkers held his hand out as if to break my fall, but did not touch me.

“Are you all right?” Sabine and her mates glanced back.

I hitched my dress up so it would not snag my boots. “Fine,” I answered, and managed a smile. After a brief pause, Ragnvald gave the order and we marched on.

Walking in shadow between twin columns of the large warriors, I decided not to think about my life after the Games. I’d take this journey one step at a time.

We were headed to the Place of Stones, halfway between the Lowland and Highland Pack’s home. The journey would’ve been quicker with horses, but the animals could not abide being near a Berserker. It would also be faster for the Berserkers to carry Sabine and I, as they have great strength and speed. But they could not because I was unmated and it would offend my future mate for the men to touch me, or so Ragnvald explained to me.  

The day was fine and we made good time, so when Sabine requested we stop for lunch, her Alphas agreed. The three of them slipped off together leaving me standing stiffly with my honor guard. As the warriors handed out strips of meat, I drifted closer to a nearby stream. These men were on their best behavior, but I still kept a distance between myself and them while we waited for Sabine to finish with her lovers. I was used to the three of them disappearing like this, and did not fault them. Ragnvald and Maddox had nearly gone mad waiting for their true mate, the one who would balance the raging beast within and bring them peace. They needed connection with Sabine like food and air, and my sister was happy to comply. When she complained of their possessiveness,  she did so with a smile.

My sisters were well matched with Berserkers, and happy. Perhaps I would be so lucky.  

I found a rock near the pool and sat down, studying my reflection. Skin not dark or pale, but tan with faint freckles. Long hair neither very blonde or very dark, but a dun brown. I wasn’t short like Sabine, or tall like Brenna. There was nothing extraordinary about my looks or my person. Sabine had smarts and Brenna had courage, but I was lacking in both.

My hand dashed my reflection. At least one red-headed warrior had thought me beautiful. He was well built and strong, and he wanted me.

“Fergus,” I whispered, touching my hair where I’d threaded the white flower. “If there was any magic in me, I would use it to find a way to bind us now.”

“Does our company weary you so much that you’d speak to your own reflection?” A warrior with blond hair loomed over me. I’d noticed him before—he had fine looks but an unhandsome sneer on his face, and watched me in a way that made me uneasy.

“I know. Let us have some entertainment. A small tournament. Any man here can challenge me.”

I rose and scooted away from the warrior, under the pretense of going to a berry bush to pick fruit for my lunch. If I was lucky, I would not attract any unwelcome attention.

 The blond warrior faced the rest of the troop. I noted that none met his eyes—a sign that this bully was dominant in the pack. “Well, come on? Will no one challenge me? Winner gets a kiss from the prize.”

At that, I stiffened. I might be no more than a prize to these men, but my kisses were mine to give. This warrior had no right to claim them.  

“The winner will get nothing from me,” I blurted. “I am not a bawd, earning my keep in your beds.”

The blond warrior whirled and stalked back towards me, and I knew I’d made a mistake. He stalked closer, intent on tormenting me.

“No? Pity. It might be better for the pack if you were. Perhaps I will suggest it at the Gathering. We could pass you around and enjoy your charms. Why should one man claim what we all could share?”

I tensed as he bent over me, but stood my ground. “My fate has been decided.”

“Such a shame. We could have had fun.” He stepped closer, too close. Every instinct in me told me to run. I clenched my fists at my sides and forced myself not to look up at him, or strike out, goading him further.

I  couldn’t stop my sharp tongue. “I doubt I would enjoy it.”

His voice dropped an octave lower, but the seductive purr only made my skin crawl. “It will be my pleasure to prove you wrong.”

“Not unless you win the Games.” Inwardly I shuddered at the thought of being shackled to such a bully.

When I started to move away, he caught my sleeve with a growl.

“Siebold,” a deep voice rang out before I could lash out. “Take two wolves and patrol ahead.”

The bully froze. “But–”

“Now.” Even I felt the push of compulsion in the order. Berserkers were wolves who followed an Alpha, and a more dominant wolf had power over a weaker one. Whoever this Siebold was, he held sway over most of the warriors—but not all of them.

The blond left and my savior approached. Without thinking, I looked up…and looked up further. This man was enormous. Tall and broad, his heavily muscled form towered over me, enough to block out the sun. His legs were like tree trunks; his arms and shoulders stretching the leather jerkin he wore. He wasn’t handsome—a scar slashed over his blunt features, and his grey stubble on his chin matched that of his shaved head—but he was striking, powerful. A force to be reckoned with.  

At the last moment, I dropped my gaze.

“The rest of you, spread out. Form a perimeter,” the giant ordered, and the rest of my escort obeyed. He remained, my sole protector.

Slowly, my body relaxed. I picked some fruit off the berry bush while the great warrior hovered at my side.

“You would do well to eat more than berries, little one.” He offered me a strip of dried meat.

“Thank you, sir.”  I accepted, careful not to touch his fingers. I’d had little appetite lately, but I found it had returned. When I finished the meat, I unhooked a horn I wore at my belt, and filled it with water from the stream. The giant warrior stayed at my side, watching over me. I offered him the horn, first. He paused before he took it.

“Careful, Muriel. Sharing a drink with a warrior means more to him than it might to you.” At my puzzled look, he explained. “Long ago, when a woman approached a man with a horn, it meant she had chosen him for the night. We remember some of these rules from the years when we were men.”

Inspiration for Wulfgar: actor Russell Crowe

“I’ll take more care, sir.” I didn’t raise my eyes beyond the dip in the center of his chest. Pack rules didn’t allow weaker members to look stronger ones in the eye. To do so was a challenge that could result in a fight to the death. In many packs, females that could not fight were punished for rising above their place. As a human female, I was weaker than any other, and this man was twice as tall and thrice as broad as me, the most powerful Berserker I’d ever seen. He could crush me with a single blow, yet I felt safe in his shadow, unlike with Siebold or most of the others.

“Look at me, little one,” he rumbled. Nervous, I obeyed almost as soon as he gave the command. The scar gave his face a brutal look, but his grey eyes were kind.

“I thought…” I licked my lips and found my voice, “I was told I’m not supposed to look any wolf in the eye,” I told him.

“It is wise to follow that rule carefully, but not with me. Never with me. My wolf doesn’t see you as a threat.”

I felt like he’d told me something important.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, trying to be polite.

Grey eyes smiled.

“So brave. You did well, standing up to Siebold.”

I pursed my lips. “He’s a bully.”

“He is. A dangerous one. You need to take care not to bait him, unless you’re around me.”

“I’ve never been good at holding my tongue.”

“So I’ve heard. You were very brave when the Berserkers first took you, calling out to save your sister’s life, making demands of the Lowland Pack even when you were their captive.”

I blinked. “You hea
rd of that?”


“Every wolf has heard of it.” Reaching out, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ears. I jerked back, my heart tripping faster. This warrior dwarfed me in every way. His hands could span the width of my waist, but when his blunt fingers caught a handful of my long, brown tresses, his thumb stroked the shining lock of hair with surprising gentleness.

“My lord–” I protested, tugging the lock from his grip. Heat suffused my body as if he had touched my skin, and again my gaze fell to the chiseled muscles of his chest. Cheeks hot, I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Wulfgar,” he supplied, amusement in his tone.

“My lord Wulfgar, you should not touch me. It does dishonor to the man who will win my hand.”

One side of his mouth creased in a half smile. “Is that so, little one? Then I had better win.”

OUT NOW…CLICK TO START READING

Captured to be a prize in the brutal Berserker Games…

 

My life changed forever when the Berserkers took me. These fearsome warriors must find women to keep their lethal rage at bay…and I am an ideal mate.

 

The Alphas decree that all warriors must compete in a series of Highland Games for my hand. Of all the giant warriors, two have caught my eye, but I have no choice. When the final match is over, I will belong to the ruthless victors. They will possess me fully. I can only hope they will be the two I could come to love…   

 

Given to the Berserkers is a standalone, full-length MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman. Read the whole best-selling Berserker saga to see what readers are raving about…

*

The Berserker Saga

Sold to the Berserkers

Mated to the Berserkers

Bred by the Berserkers (FREE novella)

Taken by the Berserkers

Given to the Berserkers

Claimed by the Berserkers – coming early 2017

A very merry Berserker holiday

Hello, Spankos! Hope your holiday is as merry and bright as your favorite heroine’s bum. Here’s some naughty menage punishment from my latest release <3

***

 

***

Maddox pounced. I found myself face down over his lap with my gunna around my waist. I kicked wildly. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you how you will be punished.” He smoothed a hand over my bottom and squeezed each cheek.

“Stop it!”

My struggles only resulted in him pinning my legs under one of his and securing my hands in the small of my back. My feet fluttered as he caressed my bottom and then brought his hand down, hard.

My outrage echoed through the cavern. I tried twisting and Maddox held me further.

“That’s one,” he said, and smacked me again, harder. This time it stung.

“That’s enough!”

“No, that’s two.”

Ragnvald laughed. I cursed at him, and gasped when Maddox let fly a flurry of smacks that had me dancing on my belly. The sting wasn’t unbearable, but the humiliation of being pinned and punished like a naughty child was.

“I will kill you, wolf.”

Maddox responded by slapping the tops of my thighs. The pain on my sensitive flesh brought tears to my eyes, and I found it wise to say silent.

“Think she’s learned her lesson?”

“I will ask her,” Maddox said. “Will you obey us, Sabine? You may not speak, only nod.”

“I–”

A fresh volley on my bare bottom had me gritting my teeth,.

“Let’s try that again. Will you obey? You do not have permission to speak.”

I jerked my head, once.

“Good girl.”

***

Taken by the Berserkers: an MFM menage shifter romance

My mother warned me not to go alone to the grove. But when the moon is full, heat stirs my blood…and it calls to them.

The Berserkers came in the night and took me. I woke chained outside the monsters’ cave.

They were warriors, cursed by a witch to become ravening beasts. They tell me I’m their mate. The prophecy says I am the only one who can heal them. But can I tame the beast that haunts their mind…before it’s too late?

***  Sign up to my mailing list for a FREE Berserker book! ***

May I present Pearl’s Possession

Today, I have a new release! Read on for a letter of introduction, a blurb, and an excerpt!
Pearl's Possesion (1)
I’m so excited to present Pearl’s Possession, a menage addition to the fantastic Red Petticoat series.  The first thing you should know is that this book has way, way too much sex in it.

I’m serious. Part of the reason I wrote it during my second trimester of pregnancy, when the hormones were just raging.

The other reason is that I wanted to write a menage romance–one woman, multiple men. Menage appeals to me–you can take the facets of a perfect man and separate them out. You like blonds? Brunettes? Hard doms and sweet daddies? Someone to whip you and someone to cuddle? You can have it all.
 
Besides, twice the men means twice the orgasms…
 
The thing is, I overdid it. Pearl gets possessed (read: fucked) by not one, not two, but FIVE men. Individually, in pairs, three at a time–every combination you can think of. Plus spankings, anal play, forced orgasms, servile submission, and rope play…
 
Did I mention that I was really horny?
 
I loved writing the very different personalities of Pearl’s five lovers: some sweet, some dominant, all of them hot and totally intent on possessing–and being possessed by–their Pearl. I had so much fun writing them I finished the book in record time and sent it off to friends for their feedback. Their verdict: the book has way, way too much sex.
 
But I’ll leave it to you to decide. 😉
 
Happy Reading! 😀
 
-Lee

***Blurb***

Five husbands; one Possessed Pearl.

When Pearl starts working as a gem at The Red Petticoat saloon, she knows she’s found the place where she belongs. After all, her husband cast her out for being too lusty of a wife. She quickly comes to enjoy her clients, especially her five constant regulars, so much so, that when one of her regulars proposes marriage, she declines. How can one man satisfy her?

Things change when all five of her regulars come to her with a marriage proposal—live with them as a bride to five 5 cowboyshusbands.

Can Pearl face her fear of marriage and allow herself to be claimed by not one man, but five?

Disclaimer: This book contains the spanking of adult women and explicit sexual scenes including multiple partners and anal play.

***Excerpt***
“Are you wet now?” Cash asked in a tone that warned me to tell the truth.
“Yes,” I whispered, my cheeks staining with shame. Sitting in Cash’s lap, two men’s hands stroking up and down my legs, I was primed and ready for a long, hard fuck.
“If I told you we were going to tie you up, and use you the way we did that first night, would that excite you?”
My throat clogged before I could answer, but he added, “Be honest, Pearl, or I’ll turn you over my knee right now and spank you.”
“Yes,” I croaked, and a ripple of excitement ran around the room.  
“Good girl.”
My nipples hardened at the command in his voice. Through my thin shift, Cash could see evidence of my arousal, and nodded thoughtfully. Lifting my foot, Samson nipped at my ankle. My cunny grew slick with my juices.
“We want you to say yes, Pearl.”
“You’ll spend the night with us,” Cash said. He cupped my chin so he was sure of my attention. Of course, I would’ve agreed to anything at that point.  
“We’ll have one last night to enjoy your body and give you pleasure. If you truly don’t want us, we’ll take you back.” His voice deepened. “Of course, we’ll know if you’re lying. And lying means you’ll be punished.” 
WIPimage12

#SatSpanks One woman…five husbands

Pearl's Possesion (1)

Pearl agrees to marry and love 5 men on their California ranch. As their new bride, she institutes bath day, and personally oversees their washing, one at a time. Then it’s her turn…

***

“We want you,” he said, pulling me against him. “We always want you.” His mouth took mine; I felt a thrill at making my usually reserved husband lose control. His fingers trailed up my inner thigh, touching my lower lips. I sighed and parted my legs.

Distracted, I didn’t realize the bedroom door had opened until someone lifted me from behind.

“Your turn, lass,” I heard Brock. He picked me up and I cried out at the loss between my legs. I had been close. Frustrated, I tried to kick, and Jonas and Orion caught my legs, grinning. Brock held me firm, hands secured behind my back as the other two spread my legs.

“What are you doing? Let me go.”

I saw Samson approach with a bucket of water and started struggling madly.

“I’ve already had my bath!”

“We know,” Jonas smirked. “We’re getting you dirty, then clean, over and over again.” Brock lifted up my bottom, presenting my pussy to Samson. The big man came closer and tipped the bucket.

“Oh, no.” I thrashed in their hold, and Jonas and Orion tightened their grip. The stream of water washed right over my pussy, rushing over my little pearl. I cried out; the sensation was overwhelming, yet not forceful enough to make me cum.

After the last little bit trickled out, Samson put down the bucket. “Did she cum?”

“Not yet. Again,” Brock said.

I yelped and pleaded, but it was no use. They poured warm water over my center and again I writhed as the pleasure flickered just out of reach. Samson held the bucket higher and higher, so the water fell with more force, and I panted as my pussy clenched. It was like being raped by a waterfall.

“Please,” I begged when the final drops fell. “I need to cum.”

“How do you think we felt, lass? Being touched all over by your beautiful self, and then sent out of the room, hard and wanting?” That was a part of my plan I hadn’t thought through.

“I was just trying to serve you. Please!”

“Next time, you end each of our baths on your knees,” Orion said. Jonas now held both my legs and the blond came to pluck at my nipples, a wicked look on his face.

“You’ll serve us, aye. Over and over again, or you won’t get to cum,” Brock growled in my ear, then licked and sucked at the lobe. I panted and moaned as they stimulated every part of my body but the one part I wished they’d touch.

“Cash,” I called to the only one not taking part in my torment. “Please.”

“No, Pearl. You wanted us clean, you got it. Now we use you for our pleasure.”

They lay me down on the bed, face up but so my head hung over the foot of the bed. Two cocks presented themselves on either side and I stroked them off.

“That’s right, lass. The sooner we cum, the sooner you can.”

Upside down, I watched Orion move closer, his member dangling in my face. I let my mouth fall open and took him in. We delighted in this position since we’d found I could take all of him this way. Pumping in and out of my mouth, Orion took the opportunity to tug my nipples, sometimes pinching them until I moaned. The pain drove me to greater heights of arousal, and I moved my hands faster, frantic to make my men climax. My tongue moved around Orion’s shaft, encouraging him as he sped up his thrusts. He came first, and I took turns with the other two, turning my head this way and that, licking the crowns of Jonas’ and then Brock’s shafts. Gripping my hair, one slammed all the way into my mouth until my vision was filled with dark curls. I drank Jonas’ cum, and then serviced Brock the same way.

With a final pinch for my poor nipples, they moved away, and Cash took their place. It seems I was going to pay for my earlier teasing. I felt a warm mouth at my entrance and looked down. Samson had made himself comfortable on the bed, and blew hot air onto my pussy before covering it with his whole mouth, as if he would devour me whole. I cried out as his tongue flicked my pearl, then withdrew.

“Suck,” Cash ordered, his member brushing my face, and I obeyed. Samson was quick with my reward, lapping at my juicy cunt until I moaned around Cash’s cock. A command from Cash, and Samson stopped as the man at my mouth withdrew. I stared up at Cash, puzzled, until he repeated it.

“Up, Pearl. On all fours.” I scrambled to get into position. Once I was there, Cash presented his cock to my lips. I rubbed my face over it, desperate and begging, before opening my mouth to engulf him.

“Brace yourself,” Cash murmured, stilling for a second while Samson speared me with his awesome rod. The groan I gave must have sent tremors up and down Cash’ cock, for he lost it. Throwing back his head, Cash cursed as he came deep in my throat. Samson slammed into me again and I fell forward onto the bed. Hands helped me up, turned me around and helped me sink down on the giant prick.

“Hello, pretty Pearlie.” My big man grinned. Melting into his chest, I kissed him, feeling my body cramp as it stretched around him. He always felt bigger when I rode him.

“Tired?” He looked concerned, so I pushed up and shook my head.

“I want you.” The pleasure flashing across his face was the most beautiful sight in the world. I felt a hand on my waist, forcing me back down. Jonas’ curly chest hair brushed my back as he leaned over me, sliding his cock into my ass.

I groaned. “So full.”

Orion was at my mouth again, then leaving to take his turn in my ass. I grunted as his long prick speared me, but I was stretched and ready. I almost hated the way a cock felt in my ass— hated and craved it. Samson finished deep inside me and I hurtled over the edge, more stimulated than I’d ever been in my life. Brock took his turn in my mouth. He and Orion sawed in and out of me, finding a smooth rhythm. More hands brushed my breasts and sides.

“You’re so beautiful, lass. We love watching ye move between us,” Brock whispered.

“Next time, we will make you kneel down and service us, and we will paint your body with our seed,” Orion said.

“Would you like that, Pearl?” The thought made me weak, and, as long fingers flicked my overstimulated clit, I started shaking. The men sped up their motions. By the time they’d sated themselves, I was a hot, sweaty mess. Cum trickled out of my pussy and ass. My whole body felt deliciously sore. I flopped onto the bed, smiling, but so tired.

The last thing I heard was Brock chuckling. “She needs a bath.”

***Read More***

#WIPitup Pearl plays with her men….

WIPimage12

***

WIP it up! This week I have an excerpt from Pearl’s Possession, my addition to the Red Petticoat series, coming June 15th. A brothel worker who loves sex, Pearl is kidnapped by 5 of her regular customers to be their shared bride… Pearl's Possesion (1)

***

“You planned this, from the beginning,” I said. “Yes, Pearl,” Cash said. “As soon as we spent that night with you, we knew you would be ours.”
“You came to me every week. Or almost every week.”

“Aye,” Brock answered in his brogue. “It was quite a journey, and I couldnae do it every time, but we all wanted to see you, and court you one on one.”

“I don’t understand.” How could five men want one woman?

“You will,” Cash said, and I shivered with the promise. These men were not going to take no for an answer.

Samson and Brock kissed me and left my side, only to be replaced by Jonas and Orion. My men were all about the same age, I would say Cash was the oldest, Jonas the youngest. Orion the second youngest, perhaps, then Brock and Samson.

Jonas and Orion couldn’t be more different, one tanned and the other fair, but they both had a boyish gleam in their eye.

“Take this off,” Jonas said, and with two extra pairs of hands I was quickly naked. Orion smacked my bum lightly.

“Up,” he ordered, and I took my usual place on hands and knees, this time right over Orion’s crotch as he positioned himself on his back. His trousers were pulled down and cock already out. Licking my lips, I bent my head, only to lurch forward when the wagon hit a bump.

“Maybe not with your mouth, sweet one,” Orion whispered, disappointed.

“Here.” Jonas handed him a jar of ointment. With a wicked smile, Orion teased and tormented my hanging breasts, coating them with lubricant. Then he had me crouch down, practically kissing his chest, and squeeze his long cock between my breasts. I bounced up and down like that as best I could—at least, the wagon bounced me even if I held still.

Orion was tensing and thrusting his hips into the crevice of my breasts when I felt Jonas slip a slick digit into my bum. And just like that, I was more hot and bothered then I had ever been. I started moaning like crazy, and clenching around the invading probe in my ass.

“No, Pearl,” Jonas took out his finger and smacked my bottom hard. “You may not cum.” Shocked that I had been about to lose control from just a finger in my bottom, I turned my attention back to pleasuring Orion. Sticking out my tongue, I got a few licks onto the head of his cock before he spurted up into my face. Wiping his seed from my skin I tasted it and got another moan from him. Behind me, Jonas was rubbing himself off furiously.

Lowering my front to lick up more seed from Orion’s taut stomach, I let my ass sway in a sexy dance just for him. I might be apprehensive about the situation, but I was still my gem self—wanton and filled with whorish desire.

During sex could I let myself go.

“Reach back and hold open your ass,” Jonas ordered.

Confused, I hesitated, but Orion knew what to do. He guided my hands back. “Grab your cheeks and show him your cute little bum hole.”

My face nestled just above Orion’s crotch, I gripped a fleshy globe in either hand and showed Jonas his favorite part of my body. Jonas started gasping and I felt his seed paint my back. He cursed over and over again.

“Good Pearl,” Orion whispered, collecting my hair back from my face.

Nuzzling his belly, I kissed his lean muscles, lapping up the rest of his cum.

That’s how Cash found us, Orion on his back and Jonas kneeling behind me, my face and back glistening with their cum. “My god, Pearl. You’re perfect for us.”

***

Pearl’s Possession: Chapter 1

5 husbands...one Possessed Pearl

This is chapter one of Pearl’s Possession, my addition to the Red Petticoat series. Pearl is one of the “gems” who entertains men upstairs at the saloon. Read on as she starts her career off with a bang…

***
My name is Pearl and I’m a whore. I work as one of Madame Jewel’s gems at the Red Petticoat Saloon. Some women are here because they need money, or safety, or work. I’m here because of those things, but also because I’m a wanton woman, overflowing with craven desire. Let me explain.

When I first came to the saloon, Madame Jewel heard my life story in full. She examined me carefully and told me that with my sizable curves and height, I was perfect to fill a request a certain client had. In one night I could guarantee my place in her saloon and make a profit besides. All I had to do was agree to the terms. I heard them, and immediately did. Not because of the money, although that certainly helped. But because what she offered—a night where I was bound and captive while a party of men took over my body—was exactly what I craved.

My former husband had loved my sexual appetite, but soon had grown tired of my constant need and accused me of cheating on him. I had never looked at another man, but I couldn’t help my appetite. I was always wet and ready. Even the sound of the shop clerk reading out a list of groceries sometimes made my special places clench and slicken.

was a Jezebel of the worst kind. But Madame could use me, and so I agreed to start off my career with a bang. My first night working in the saloon, I was bathed and prepped for the party. Madame Jewel helped me herself. She did not paint my face, saying the men would wish to see my pale skin, blue eyes and dark hair without any paint or artifice. I was clothed in a loose white gown, the thin, silky fabric clinging and revealing more than it concealed.

By the men’s request, I was bound lightly by my wrists to the headboard of a large bed. The scarves wound around my arms. My legs were left free. I didn’t mind, just having the scarves securing my wrists made me feel like I was tied down and helpless, and couldn’t escape what would be wrought on my body. But I wanted it. As soon as the door creaked open, I was in a puddle of my own juices.

Madame Jewel had put out punch and cakes in an effort to entertain the idea of a party. It was all a farce. The men surrounded the bed almost immediately. I could hear their boots on the floor and smell the slightly smoky masculine scent of leather and the outdoors, along with a faint trace of soap. My eyes were blindfolded by another scarf, but I could imagine them standing around the bed, some short, some tall, some with broad shoulders, some lean but still muscled from their work, and all of them staring very hungrily down at the bed.

“Her nipples are already hard,” one of them murmured and I couldn’t help but shiver.

“Gentlemen, she’s all yours,” Madame Jewel said, and I heard the door close.

For a beat, nothing happened, no sound no movement. I waited, wondering if they were pleased with me, or whether they would leave and tell the Madame to cast me out, that I was unfit for even this purpose. I heard a whisper of something near my right ear, and turned.

“Are you afraid, lass?” a very soft Scottish brogue asked. I shook my head, not trusting my voice to work. “We’re going to put our hands on ye, and fuck ye. You’re verra beautiful and we want you verra much, but first we want to know that you give your consent.” 

To my left, someone was working the scarves free, starting to unbind me.

“No, please,” I gasped, and caught the hands at my wrists, stopping them in their work. “I want this.”

“Do ye truly? It is not some artifice that the Madame trained ye for?” I shook my head.

“Her body’s already aroused, Brock,” one of the men reminded him, and I heard other voices around hushing him. “No names.”

But lest the pronouncement of my arousal did not convince Brock, I gave a humiliated sob, and spread my legs so they all could see every inch of my wantonness—the thick and shiny juices painting my inner thighs, and my little pale pearl glistening in the pink shell of my lips.

One of the men—maybe Brock—sucked in a harsh breath at the sight.

“Easy,” someone murmured. “You’ll get your turn. We all will.” The words made me shiver. The man at the headboard took my hands and, very gently, bound them back up. They did not, to my great relief, touch the blindfold.

“All right, lass. We’re gonna give ye a good fucking and no mistake. Ye’ve earned it.” I had never heard such admiration in anyone’s tone.

The men were true to their word, first they touched me, a myriad of hands stroking up and down my limbs lightly, then with more certainty. My heart beat faster—they could touch and see me but I could do neither. I was truly helpless. Whether they loved me or broke me was up to them. One of them—Brock, I liked to think—leaned down and kissed my cheek.

By now I was warm to their touch; I turned my head and sought his lips. The other gems who worked at the Petticoat warned me about kissing men and making eye contact. The connection of lips and gaze was dangerous because it could easily ensnare a woman. I was still blindfolded so I figured I was safe. The man’s face was bristled and scratchy with a beard, but his lips were sweet and the kiss we shared I’ll never forget. Especially because it ended when another man bent his head and put his hot mouth over my breast.

“Oh.” I jerked a little in my bounds.

“You like that?” Brock whispered as the mouth at my breast continued to worry the flesh.

“Yes, sir. Very much.”

He chuckled. “Keep calling us ‘sir.’ If ye’re a good gem, we’ll reward ye.” And with that, all manner of hands fell on me, two for each leg, rubbing and massaging, enjoying my soft skin. My other breast was claimed by a large mouth. A slight beard chafed my soft flesh, and I loved it. Arching my back, I tried to encourage them to suck harder, but then someone put their hand between my legs and I jerked again in surprise.

“Soaked,” the man confirmed and a second hand joined the first, two sets of fingers swirling on my thighs, dipping down to collect some of the dew there.

“Taste yourself, love,” Brock said, and two fingers touched my lips. Immediately I opened and sucked them in, swirling my tongue around the digits, lapping up the sweetness.

“She wants it.”

“Someone’s going to give ye another kiss,” Brock narrated. “But this time on yer cunny. Get ready. Ye’ll know much pleasure before the night is out.”

He was right. Slowly one of the hands and mouths broke away from the others, and started licking up my leg. He took his sweet time. Every second felt like forever, and I fought to stay quiet as the men stoked my passion higher and higher. They were touching me nonstop, so many hands I couldn’t keep track. Someone even sucked on my toes while rubbing my feet a little with a giant hand. I wasn’t a small woman but I felt tiny and petite compared to the hands on my skin, dominating, claiming. Someone else kissed my cheek, and tugged my hair gently, pulling my head to the side so he could continue kissing down my neck. Hot breath swirled against my skin before a tongue stabbed into my ear. At the same time, the man settled between my legs, reached my honeypot and laid a hot wet mouth right on my cunny.

“Oh!” I arched up off the bed, feeling the tongue in my ear shoot pleasure straight south while the warm mouth at my special place sent sparks shooting everywhere. I moaned loudly, and the tongues rewarded me, probing, sucking, licking. I could hear my juices squelching but I wasn’t ashamed. This was what my body was made for, to be worshiped, to be handled, to be loved. And then to be taken, completely claimed.

But that would come later. For now, the men continued their work, pushing me inexorably towards the brink. I had pleasured myself earlier, so I might relax and focus on my customer’s needs (another bit of advice from the other gems). My desire ran so hot I usually pleasured myself several times a day. When I told Madame Jewel this, she had smiled. My high level of passion made me the perfect gem. But I wasn’t a wanton, wicked woman at that moment. I was a treasure, a pearl, shiny with desire and cherished by many men. Five in fact.

Eventually, when I had cum screaming and the man between my legs came up to give me a wet and sloppy kiss, Brock announced their intention.

“We’re gonna fuck ye now. And ye’ll like it, and cum again. We’re not small but we’ll make sure ye receive your pleasure.” Before the fucking, though, there was more touching, and teasing, and massage, until finally I put my feet on the mattress, spread my legs as wide as they would go, and pushed my bottom up, offering my pussy in full view.

“Please, sirs,” I begged, shameless. The mouths at my nipples paused their delicious torture. “Please, fuck me.”

“With pleasure,” one of the men growled in a deep voice.

“We’ll fill ye, soon enough,” Brock said, and even his voice was growing raspy, hoarse with desire. The man between my legs pulled me to where he wanted me. His rough hands cupped my bottom, kneading my fleshy globes and his large hands and presence made me feel petite. The head of his cock slid up and down my slit, stimulating the sensitive area and gaining plenty of lubrication. He put his cock right at my entrance, and as he pressed in, a smile curved my lips. He was not small. He wasn’t too big, either. He was just right. Then he surged forward and I was in heaven. His cock stretched me quickly, and filled my channel, I couldn’t help but move my hips and meet him. There was no one to judge me and tell me I was a hussy to enjoy this so much. I was a gem; I was supposed to give the ultimate pleasure to the men who paid. If I took some at the same time, who would know? Perhaps my eagerness would add to the excitement.

There were still hands on my breasts. Brock came around to my head, touching my hair and kissing me every once in awhile, telling me how beautiful I was in his distinct brogue. I made sure to smile at him, even as his friend between my legs pounded me towards another orgasm.

“So tight, and wet,” the man gasped. “Perfect.”

“My turn,” said another, higher voice, and a second cock took the first one’s place. This one was long and narrower, but slid in easily and hit a deep place inside me that had me convulsing in no time. He came and gave my lips a very chaste kiss. So sweet, I nibbled on his lips a little to encourage him.

“Take my place,” Brock said, and he went down for his turn. The sweet mouth stayed near my face, while Brock filled me. When he came I was wet and slick, full of their seed. My body was buzzing, each part of me alive and singing, but not replete. Not yet. The men first gave me a break. My blindfold was askew. Before I could ask, someone tightened and straightened it while another undid my scarves.

“Help her up.” Two men did, careful of the blindfold. “Drink this.” They gave me some water, and then some punch, and then more water by my request. One man sat to my left and one to my right on the bed, cradling me, helping me drink.

“You tired, lass?” I shook my head. I was well used, but ready for more. They laid me down again and tied my wrists apart this time, one to one bed post and one to another so my chest was exposed to them. It was less of a strain than the other position, though I had been grateful for the first as the tighter binding made me feel more helpless, a feeling I enjoyed.

With my arms stretched apart, the man who climbed on could lick and suck at my breasts while he sat his cock at my entrance. Which is exactly what he did. He was absolutely huge, but I was so wet and stretched from the other three, it felt wonderful. I wrapped my legs around his massive form as far as they would go, and encouraged him to take me hard. As the giant between my legs bottomed out, I was shouting my pleasure so loudly someone else gave me fingers to suck. He’d dipped them in punch to make them sweet and I licked and caressed them with my tongue.

“I want her mouth,” he sighed.

“Next time,” someone told him, and I felt a thrill that there would be a next time. The fifth, and final, played with my pussy, then touched my bottom hole.

“Right here,” he said. I clenched as his finger probed the little dark star of my bottom. It didn’t feel awful, just different.

“Not tonight,” someone said firmly, and the finger retreated.

“I want to unbind your hands,” the fifth said. “I want you to touch me.”

“All right,” I whispered. At the moment I wanted that more than anything too. One of the men undid my bindings, but checked my blindfold.

“For your protection,” he said gruffly.

“More for ours,” Brock said reprovingly. I was barely listening. I didn’t care who these men were, or why they all wanted to take me at once; I wanted to get fucked. The man’s cock at my cunt nudged forward, my arms came down and closed around him, and started to stroke up and down his muscled back. He wasn’t as big as the fourth man, or as long and narrow as the second. His cock curved down a little, so he asked for and got a pillow to put under my ass, angling me to take him deep. I sang my praises of this position when my last—and largest—orgasm crashed over my entire body.

They took such good care of me, taking turns cleaning me with a damp cloth, and helping me drink more water. One of them fed me some cake, bit by bit. My hands were unbound, but both of us pretended I was still tied and helpless.

“Lovely,” he sighed, and kissed me. All the men kissed me. The big one very gently, the smallest man with more ardent force. They were thanking me, I understood, and felt a pang that they had to leave. I would never see them again, and even though I hadn’t actually seen their faces, I felt a connection to all these men. When they were gone, I would feel the loss.

For a moment I wondered what it would be like to be joined to one or more of these men. To be whole and worthy enough for them to cherish me, and come to my bed for more than just my services. What would it be like to spend all night with them, tucked between two of their large bodies? To feel safe, protected, and, for the first time since my disastrous marriage, loved. I knew it could not be. I was not a whole or proper woman; my marriage had taught me that. I was not fit to be a wife. The most I could give was my body, an hour or a night of pleasure. My craven desires were too much for one man, and, at the same time, my love could never be enough.

Brock was last. He kissed my lips, then my forehead in a tender gesture.

“You’re a gem, lass,” he said. I smiled. I was a gem; I was one of Madame Jewel’s gems now. If this was to be my life, night in and night out, I had no complaints. I wanted him to stay—to prolong the sweet moment. But this was the last minute I had with him—and I had to let him know what he meant to me. I was so tired, but I reached out, catching his arm so I could keep him close enough to hear my whisper.

“Thank you,” I sighed. “So much.”

And then I slept like the dead.

WIPimage12

Pearl’s Possession

Welcome Spankos!

OTK Sat Spanks-dusty rose

Today you get an excerpt from Pearl’s Possession, part of the Red Petticoat series and due out June 15th.  Pearl is a brothel worker who’s kidnapped by five of her regulars to be their shared wife.

That’s right…five men, one woman.  I wrote this book in the second trimester of pregnancy when the hormones were raging. It has way, way too much sex in it, not to mention domination and discipline…

***

Cash lifted the paddle from the table. “Six, I think. Just enough to introduce her to it, but not enough to bruise her.”

“Legs apart, Pearl. Point your toes in,” Orion said, and I positioned myself in a way kept me from tightening my muscles, and showed off my charms to all my men.  

Someone touched the paddle to my nates and I whimpered. “Shhh, it’s all right.” Cash leaned close to me, brushing my hair away from my face.

“Don’t be frightened. You like it when I take control, don’t you?” I nodded against the table. “This will please me. Bent over, your husbands can see every beautiful part of you. Brock and Jonas are excited to see your bottom turn pink. And Samson has promised for every stroke, you will receive an equal lick of pleasure. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” I sighed. Staring into his dark eyes, I felt myself sink into sweet submission. My men would take care of me.  

Cash stayed close, stroking my back. “You asked me what I enjoy most about you. It is this. The way you give over all control. It’s a beautiful gift,” he finished on a whisper.

Closing my eyes, I craned my neck and kissed him, my soft lips silently telling him I understood.

“Sweet Pearl.” He stood. “Time to take your punishment. And remember,” he said in that stern voice that made my insides clench. “This is what happens to naughty wives who touch themselves without their husband’s permission. We own you, Pearl, pain and pleasure.”

***