Bound For Training Series by Emily Tilton – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Bound For Training Series by Emily Tilton – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:08:05 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Bound For Training Series by Emily Tilton – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Her Viking Lord (Bound For Training #2) Read Online Emily Tilton http://www.books2020.com/her-viking-lord-bound-for-training-2-read-online-emily-tilton Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:08:05 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/her-viking-lord-bound-for-training-2-read-online-emily-tilton Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Emily Tilton Series: Bound For Training Series by Emily Tilton
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)

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First he made me call him master. Then he made me come like I meant it.

When Aksel Bergstrom ordered me to undress and put myself on display for him the first time, his instruction was sent by text, and he merely observed as I blushed and begged and climaxed.

But now this bearded brute is here in person, stripping me bare and spanking my ass red for the slightest hint of defiance before tying me down and using my helplessly bound body shamefully.

Because the bastard ravaging me like a Viking of old isn't some mysterious stalker.

He's one of the Sons of Odin.

And I belong to them now.

Publisher's Her Viking Lord is the second 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

Lorna

I honestly wanted to kill my husband. The fact that he was the prime minister of Jagland made the potential crime seem more serious, but I didn’t think I’d get any more prison time for killing Takken than I would for killing any other fucking asshole. Maybe less, with the right magistrates sitting on the bench.

The thought should have horrified me—Fru Norquist, the perfect political wife, contemplating murder—but instead I found myself mentally cataloging the opportunities. The state dinner next week, perhaps. A tragic choking incident. Or maybe something more poetic: a fall from our residence’s balcony, the modernist architect’s glass barriers he’d insisted on installing proving, alas, inadequate.

I smoothed my ash-blonde hair, checking my reflection in the hallway mirror as Takken’s voice drifted from his study. Another late-night call with his ‘advisors.’ The same advisors who’d been pushing him to sign away Jagland’s energy independence to foreign interests, no doubt. My fingers tightened on my clutch until my knuckles went white.

“Darling?” His voice cut through my violent fantasies. “Could you come here a moment?”

I straightened my spine—an automatic response drilled into me by years of public appearances—and walked to his study. He sat behind his pretentious glass desk, his gray eyes calculating as always. The carefully maintained blond of his hair caught the light from the desk lamp.

“We need to discuss the Synergy Group reception tomorrow,” he said, not looking up from his tablet. “You’ll wear the blue Valentino. And for God’s sake, try to look interested when Monsieur Brenteuil discusses the partnership opportunities.”

“Of course,” I replied, my voice perfectly measured, perfectly diplomatic. Inside, my anger stirred again. It felt somehow primal… ancient. As if what I had inside came from a different time, and I had chosen myself to be the protector of my country’s traditional, truly conservative values: the sea and the land, the whisper of wind through pine forests, the crash of waves against fjord walls. Something that predated his progressive buzzwords and foreign deals by centuries.

This nation, carved so recently from the no-longer-quite-so-frozen north where the Vikings had held sway, needed a better government than Takken Norquist, the man who had scarcely touched me since our wedding night two years ago, could provide. Short of throwing him off a high building, I had no idea how to make that happen, but I thought I probably had to try.

He set down his tablet and leaned back, that familiar smugness settling over his features. “The Synergy Group is prepared to offer us very favorable terms. Twenty percent above market rate for our hydroelectric output, locked in for ten years.” His lips curved in what he probably thought was a conspiratorial smile. “Of course, the oversight committee will never see the full contract. The additional five percent will be directed to our Zurich account. Clean, simple, untraceable.”

I kept my expression neutral, though my stomach turned. After two years of marriage, I knew better than to protest his schemes. Any objection would be met with that cold stare, followed by a reminder of how easily accidents could happen to difficult wives. He’d never said it outright, but the implication hung between us like a blade.

“You understand the importance of this, don’t you?” He studied me with those calculating eyes. “Brenteuil needs to see a united front. A progressive couple ready to embrace the future.”

Progressive. The word tasted like ash. I thought of how differently he’d presented himself during our courtship—the passionate environmentalist, the defender of Nordic heritage. How skillfully he’d played that role until our honeymoon in the Seychelles, when the mask had finally slipped.

No… it hadn’t slipped. He’d simply taken it off. I could still remember the casual way he’d mentioned his ‘arrangements’ with Russian oligarchs while we’d sat on that pristine beach, his hand on my thigh, completely confident I’d be thrilled by the promise of wealth.

“I understand perfectly,” I said.

“Good.” He stood, adjusting his cufflinks. “I have a meeting tonight. Don’t wait up.”

A meeting. I knew exactly what kind of meeting required him to shower again and apply fresh cologne. The Maison de Joie, most likely—a discreet establishment on Storgata where the wealthy could indulge their appetites without fear of scandal. At least his complete lack of sexual interest in me meant I was spared the indignity of performing for him personally.

The memory of our wedding night rose unbidden. How naive I’d been, expecting the passionate lover who’d courted me so ardently. Instead, I’d gotten five minutes of mechanical thrusting, his eyes vacant, his hands perfunctory. He’d finished with a grunt, rolled off me, and checked his phone for messages. The tender, attentive man who’d written me poetry had evaporated like morning mist, leaving only this cold, corrupt stranger who saw me as nothing more than a political prop.

“Lorna?” His voice sharpened. “You’re wool-gathering again.”

“Just thinking about tomorrow’s reception,” I lied smoothly.

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Advertisement Her Viking Master (Bound For Training #1) Read Online Emily Tilton http://www.books2020.com/her-viking-master-bound-for-training-1-read-online-emily-tilton Wed, 04 Jun 2025 21:18:32 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/her-viking-master-bound-for-training-1-read-online-emily-tilton Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic Authors: Emily Tilton Series: Bound For Training Series by Emily Tilton
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)

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First he's going to tame me. Then he's going to share me.

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.

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