by Ric Bern
Asmin sat up on her knees and was pulled gruffly into Ulf’s embrace. The barbarian ravished her lips with a searching kiss, and she complied eagerly, tangling her tongue with his as she was pressed onto her back. He pecked at her face and tugged on her earlobe with his teeth before nibbling a trail down the elegant tendon on the side of her neck. Crawling down her body, he paused to lavish her breasts with well-deserved attention, yet he grudgingly relented and moved on to his ultimate goal.
Ulf muscled his shoulders between her thighs, forcing them wide. He kissed the tender flesh of her calves and nibbled on the bit of tendon that was displayed as her legs were spread to their limit. He then rolled her to her side. He aligned his face with the intimate petals of her sex so that it would be as though he were making love to her mouth. Holding her open, he dipped in his mouth, pressed his nose against her mound, and rubbed his stubbly chin against her pussy. He closed his lips on her pussy and slipped his seeking, pink tongue into her molten core, searching out her deepest and most flavorful places.
Moaning and snuggling in deeper, he held her in place as she writhed. He nibbled on her outer lips, and then kissed them, tugging on them and lapping at the nectar they offered him. He drank in all of the honey her pussy offered. Pursing his lips around her clit, he flicked his tongue back and forth and slipped two long fingers into her sheath. He felt her clench around his knuckles, and a spasm rocked her belly. Again and again she throbbed and released her inner juices, tears streaking her face.
Ulf shifted her to her back and held her rear in his hands. He lifted her up from the furs and lapped at her as though he held a slice of melon. His seeking tongue never paused as his gnarled knuckles delved more fully into her pussy. They made a wet, sucking sound as he eased them in and out of her depths, massaging her inner walls. Exhaling through his nostrils, he bathed her clit in warm air as his scratchy chin pressed against her smooth rear. All the while, he stroked her pussy with his calloused digits and urged her to orgasm. Asmin cried out and milked his hand as she struggled to hold still. Ulf stroked and caressed her pussy as she suffered through aftershocks, and only withdrew his attentions when she had stilled.
The pair dozed together that morning, weary again from lovemaking. Ulf cradled her in his arms, and she nestled her head on his shoulder, her lips stealing little pecks on his neck.
“If a man was to own a woman,” he whispered, “he’d be a fool to own any other than you.”
Asmin flushed and hid her face in his hair, smiling. He trailed his fingertips up and down her back, swirling them between her shoulder blades. He wasn’t rich; he had no station. He had no villa in which to dwell. Asmin knew he was not the master she was looking for. His life was the antithesis of serene manorial living. But that had not been her lot. Not in Noricum. That dream was long gone, thanks to Braxus.
What a wicked game the gods play, she ruminated, to enamor the wickedest man in the city with her dance. Now she rested in the arms of the sexiest man she had even seen, let alone bedded. He asked nothing of her and offered her everything he had. He had saved her from certain doom. Yet what would she do? Surely she could not live with him in the wild. Could she? Would he have her in a permanent way? Ishtar, she cursed, chastising herself. She had just met this man, and already she was so smitten with the penniless barbarian, she was considering combining her fortune with his. Asmin snuggled in more securely in his all-encompassing embrace and inhaled his clean, wild scent. Ulf threw his thigh over her possessively and clutched her tight. They dozed for a time.
Raised voices and hooves splashing in the stream roused Ulf.
“Stay here.” Ulf rose. Asmin complied silently, bunching the fur blanket about her nakedness as her eyes grew wide. This place had seemed a wonderland of pleasure for the last day. The outside world had all but disappeared. Now she was certain reality had caught up with her.
Ulf strode out into the midday sun as naked as the day his mother had birthed him. Asmin crept as close to the cave’s entrance as she dared and peered through a crack in the hide cover.
“Name yourselves,” Ulf said loudly as he stopped to strap on his breechclout.
“My name is Javad, outlander,” answered the saffron-clad Persian, “and this is a customer of mine. He is a famous charioteer in yon city, perhaps you know of him, yes? No? Well, we seek a runaway slave.” The crimson-clad ruffian glowered at Ulf from the back of a white mare. Javad rested his round girth on his mule and dabbed the sweat from his swarthy pate with an embroidered cloth. “She is a lovely thing, you would remember her. Have you seen her in your ranging?”
“And what if I have?” Ulf asked back with menace. “Get off of my land. You are not welcome here.”
Javad looked to Braxus, who was rather nonplussed by such a curt reply, and back to Ulf. “Now, listen…I didn’t get your name,” Javad said, hoping to open up negotiations.
Ulf set his jaw to grind his teeth and lowered his brow. His heavily muscled frame shifted on his hips slightly as he balled his fists until his knuckles turned white. He made not a sound.
“Friend, listen,” Javad responded, raising his palms and lightening his tone, “we mean you no insult. I must satisfy my client, you see. After all, you have no doubt cared for the runaway, and that has cost you something, yes? What amount of coin will satisfy you?”
“It cost me nothing. She is here, and she is not leaving with you. I’ve already told you that you are not welcome.” He stared intently at the charioteer.
“Well,” Javad replied, his voice shaking as the tension mounted, “p-perhaps she is legally your property now, since you caught her trespassing on your land? I could see why you would see it that way, good fellow. I will buy her from you. Five gold coins, good man, an excellent price for an excellent man!”
“She is not for sale,” he said firmly and circled around to where the saddle from Papios’s destrier rested by the fire pit.
Javad looked again between the arena champion and the barbarian and could feel an altercation coming. He urged his mule backward and continued to talk nervously. “Oh, that saddle looks familiar, as does the horse tied in yon field. Oh, I say, they belonged to Papaios,” he blurted out without thinking. “Have you seen my bodyguard? How I have missed him this past day and night.”
“I killed him, stole his mount, and claimed the woman he hunted,” Ulf shouted as he brandished the tulwar he retrieved from the saddle. “And if you want her you’ll have to defeat me.”
With that Braxus snarled and unfurled the wicked whip at his side. He kicked his mare into a charge and bellowed a war cry. Ulf stood firm on the balls of his feet like a coiled spring, ready to bound in any direction. The horseman flung the length of the lash high in the air and snapped it forward, wrapping the leather around Ulf’s sword arm and yanking him from his feet. The barbarian was dragged for a few yards, but he never lost his grip on his weapon.
After he had been dragged through the stream he found his feet again and tugged back hard on the bullwhip, dislodging the rider from his saddle. Braxus made a desperate grab for his horse’s mane but missed and tumbled to the ground. His horse reared at the sudden displacement of weight, and when it came down, it landed squarely on Braxus’s sternum. The crack of his ribs was audible across the clearing.
Asmin watched with a mix of horror and triumph as the barbarian strode up to the dazed arena champion as he lay in the tall grass. Braxus struggled to his hands and knees, rasping for air. She stifled a gasp as Ulf hacked off his head seemingly without compunction. He then tied the charioteer’s head to the mare’s saddle by his curly hair.
A sheet of bright crimson bathed the pale horse’s side where blood fell from the severed neck. The barbarian took what valuables the charioteer had brought on the ride, including his heavy silver necklace, and heaved the corpse into a deep pool, where it would be carried far downstream. With the mare’s lead in his hand, Ulf approached Javad, who stared at him with horror.
“Let all in the city see that the c
laim to Asmin is satisfied by right of combat,” Ulf said with the authority of the victor. “Tell them it was Ulf who did his killing. Never return here.”
Javad nodded nervously and blotted at the beads of sweat on his wrinkled forehead. “Yes, of course I will. I…” He did not finish his thought, but grasped the lead of the gore-smeared horse and took his leave of the barbarian’s warren.
Asmin ran from her hiding place and into her lover’s embrace. They kissed, and for a moment there was no more fear in her life. Drawing his tongue into her lips, her hands roamed his back, and she knew she need never feel terror by night again. She stepped back and looked over his wounds. The whip had left a nasty, coiled welt, and he was scraped up badly from the drag. She would tend to those in a moment.
“Ulf,” she breathed lustily, looking up into his gaze, “if a woman was to be owned by a man, she’d be a fool to be owned by any other than you.”
Biography
I am a lover of Ancient and Dark Age history. I am also an avid reader of erotic fiction. In this, my first published work, I have worked hard with my editor, Jackie Moore, to marry the two together. I work as an office administrator in my everyday life. I also write an ice hockey column for an upstart sports website. In my free time I enjoy hiking and nature photography. I especially enjoy photo-cataloging the butterflies and dragonflies that are native to the county where I live. Landscape painting with acrylics is enjoyable, yet I must admit I haven’t done so in some time. I have a cat named Stinky that is my best buddy. I got him at the SPCA a few years ago, and we are inseparable. Conan the Barbarian is my favorite literary figure. I hope to continue writing in this genre, because I feel Vikings are in my future!
