Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Vikings were nothing more to me than the burly barbarians from my Norse history class... until Professor Sven Hallstrom threw me over his shoulder and carried me off.
Before he even finished taking me captive, the infuriatingly sexy bastard had already gagged and spanked me, then made me come desperately hard for him right there over his knee.
Now, bare, bound, and helplessly on display for Sven and his fellow Sons of Odin, I'm so shamefully wet I can feel it dripping down my thighs as I wait for them to take turns with me.
But these brutes aren't just going to use me as thoroughly as they please.
They're going to make me beg for it first.
Publisher's Her Viking Master is the first book in the Bound for Training series but can be read as a standalone. It includes spankings, sexual scenes, intense and humiliating punishments, and strong D/s themes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Mary
I looked at Professor Hallstrom with what I hoped came across as academic interest, but feared looked more like undisguised lust. His steel-blue eyes seemed to travel right through mine, into my mind, as he spoke, his deep voice resonating with authority and passion for the subject. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, acutely aware of the heat spreading through my body.
“The Icelandic sagas,” Professor Hallstrom continued, “offer us a unique window into Norse culture. They are not just historical records, but complex narratives filled with intrigue, violence, and yes, even explicit sexuality.”
At the mention of sexuality, I felt my cheeks flush hot. I tried to focus on taking notes, but my mind kept wandering to inappropriate places. What would those large, scholarly, but surely very strong hands feel like on my skin? How would his beard scratch against my neck if he…
I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. This was ridiculous. I had made it through my freshman year at Selecta East without feeling anything like a schoolgirl crush. Here in my study abroad semester in Rouen, though, when I should have known so much better, I couldn’t stop thinking about a professor almost, I felt certain, twice my age. Something about Sven Hallstrom, though… it called to a part of me I couldn’t, or maybe didn’t want to, put my finger on.
It must just be how simply cool it felt to be here in Rouen, with my French good enough to understand every word of Professor Hallstrom’s lecture—even to the point that I could tell he had a slight, delightfully exotic Scandinavian accent. My own American accent still gave me away, of course, and every time I tried to follow my new friends’ conversations I tended to get lost after the second sentence. The sheer joy of being able to understand and to communicate complex ideas in the classroom, though, had probably caused me to think I had a crush on this admittedly gorgeous man.
As the lecture continued, I found myself hanging onto his every word, not just for the fascinating content, but for the rich timbre of his voice. When he described the brutal raids of the Vikings, I felt a forbidden thrill run through me. It was so very on the nose, but… what would it be like to be a captured young woman, at the mercy of such a powerful warrior?
A virgin, taken in a Viking raid. I shifted in my seat. I didn’t feel particularly happy about my virgin status, but the Selecta university system, with its return to traditional gender roles, hadn’t made it easy even for an eighteen-year-old like me to do much about it.
The class ended far too soon. As the other students filed out, I lingered, gathering my courage. My heart pounded as I approached his desk.
“Professor Hallstrom?” I managed, my voice sounding breathier than I intended. “I was wondering if I could speak with you about a potential topic for my final paper.”
He looked up at me, those piercing eyes seeming to see right through my flimsy excuse. “Miss O’Toole, is it? Of course. My office hours are tomorrow afternoon.”
“I was hoping…” I swallowed hard, hardly believing my own boldness. “I was hoping we could discuss it sooner. Perhaps… this evening?”
Something flashed in his eyes—surprise? Interest?—before his expression settled into careful neutrality. “I’ll be working late tonight. If you’d like to stop by my office around seven, we can discuss your ideas then.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the way my pulse raced at the thought of being alone with him. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll see you then.”
The hallway was eerily quiet as I approached Professor Hallstrom’s office, my footsteps echoing off the polished floors. A single beam of light spilled from beneath his door, a beacon in the darkness. My heart raced, a mix of anticipation and nerves whirling inside me. I raised my hand to knock, but before my knuckles could make contact, the door swung open.