Time to wrest some power back, to put this barbarian into his place.
I jump into a crouch, draw my hidden dagger, and hold it out in front of me. “Step no closer, barbarian, lest I liberate you of parts necessary for breeding.”
He throws his head back and laughs.
This is not the reaction I usually get when I draw a knife on a man, ever. Further insult is added when he puts one hand to his belly and reaches to wipe his eyes with the other like he is overcome with mirth. Still laughing, he steps closer towards me like I’m not holding out a dagger.
“What are you doing, fool?” I hiss, rising from my couch, confused when he keeps coming until the jerkin at his belly makes contact with the point of my blade.
My brows knit together. “Step back, lest I cut you!”
He does not step back. No, it is me who steps back, given I don’t really want to stab him.
The fool is still chuckling.
“This is no laughing matter. You will free me at once or suffer the full wrath of my father and his kingdom.”
“Aye, I’m getting the idea,” he says. Then, in a move that is startlingly fast, he takes my small wrist in his hand and squeezes. Not harshly, just enough to force the blade to drop. I’m reaching for my second dagger when he grasps that wrist, too.
“Uff!” The air leaves my lungs as I’m taken down to the furs, face first. Both wrists are gathered within one meaty fist at my lower back.
I wanted his hands on me. This is not the manner in which I planned.
“Gods,” he mutters as I wriggle, feeling a prickling of unease that he disabled me with such ease. “That is a fat, juicy ass. I just want to take a big bite.”
His vulgar comment ought to douse my ardor, only there is no disgust in his tone; more, he speaks in the manner of fervent prayer.
“This ass was meant to feel a hand against it,” he adds, boldly cupping my right bottom cheek. “Fuck, these clothes should be illegal.”
I thrash in earnest, alarmed by my response more than what he does. “Release me, at once!”
His big palm comes down against my ass cheek with a thunderous clap that rings loud in the tent and startles an indignant squeal from my lips.
“You do not have leave to spank me!” I thrash around.
His big palm connects again. “I’m a king, little girl. You have wandered into my camp. I have leave to do whatever the fuck I like.”
I bite back a curse-groan as he spanks me yet again.
“Who is going to stop me?” He spanks the other cheek.
Goddess, I should not be aroused by the ease with which he has gained advantage of me. I should not be secretly jubilant that he is both capable and bold enough to best me.
Alfred
Gods, that is a fine ass: worthy of legends. There is no doubt the tiny woman possesses strength. Beneath this scandalous leather armor, she’s all toned flesh. My dick is hard to the point of pain, kicking against my pants and demanding I give it some relief.
I dare not even loosen my buckle to undo the top button on my pants. I swear if I even move wrong, my cock is going to gooff. But damn, just looking at this beautiful plump ass jiggling with every slap of my hand is near enough to unman me.
“Goddess! That hurts,” she mutters, still thrashing and kicking her legs.
I smirk, thinking about how cute and fierce she looked as she pulled her dagger on me—holding it out boldly like she might wound me with that tiny toothpick. I’m certain she has more blades hidden about her person that my fool warriors did not notice. It will be my pleasure to find each and every one of them as I strip this little girl down and teach her place.
“What are you doing in my camp?” I demand between spanks. “Were you spying for your king?”
“I was not spying,” she says. It turns into a squeal as I pepper her bottom with a set of particularly sharp spanks.
My palm is feeling hot and stingy. Her ass will be stinging more. “Do you need a bare bottom spanking before you can tell me the truth, lass?” I follow up this question with another round of spanks.