New Barbarian Erotica:
SAVAGED
A young woman runs for her life as marauders chase her into the woods. Broken and bleeding, the rogues surround her. But something crashes through the woods to her rescue. Something large, and handsome, and mostly naked.
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EXCERPT:
After a long distance
following the stream, he leads the horse through a network of narrow
trails in the dense woodland. Twice I try to slip away from the
saddle, but only once do I succeed in actually making it to the
ground. The barbarian catches me and lifts me without any effort. He
gives me a disapproving, warning grunt and squeezes my neck, urging
me to stay.
We enter a small clearing of
even earth and fern. In the center there is a cindering fire lined
with rocks. Beside the fire pit is a fallen tree trunk covered in
moss and mushrooms. What I presume is a skinned deer is strung up
from a tree in the fire’s smoke. Dried strips of meat hang in a
twine net nearby. Scraped deer hide dries over the log. Cured furs
from two or three large animals are stacked on the ground near the
fire.
It’s his camp. There are
no other barbarians in sight. Despite the thoughts of my skin and
flesh hung like the wild animal’s, I’m strangely calmed by the
sight of the wild man’s dwelling.
He carries me near the fire,
and for a panicked moment I think he’s going to drop me on the
flames. But he lowers me to the pad of furs.
He leaves me for a moment.
Fear rushes through me and I grasp the thick furs, trying to hold
back tears. The barbarian returns. My panic is sated by his calm,
strong face.
“What do you want with
me?”
By the expression on his
face, I doubt he understands. I look down, and my panic returns when
I notice he carries with a handful of coarse twine made from moss and
vine. I try to stand and avoid him, but with frightening speed he
captures my arms and starts to bind them. There’s no point in
trying to resist, his hold is tight and the twine is tighter.
“Please, let me go,” I
beg. “I just want to return to my village.”
The barbarian grunts. If he
has any kind of language, he isn’t using it. He stands, his huge
form looming over me like a giant. Trembling, I don’t move. He’s
got to be five times my size. He could do anything he wants to me and
I would have no way to stop him.
I watch his massive form
move to the fire and stoke it with a branch. He gets up from the log
and approaches me slowly. He is trying to communicate, but I don’t
recognize his grunts. He speaks some other language than the common
tongue of my township and neighboring communities.
I pull back as he
approaches, but he holds up his huge hands. He doesn’t want me to
be afraid – but if he was going to kill, cook and eat me, then I
suppose he wouldn’t.
His pace doesn’t falter.
Each step makes him seem more like a giant, a solid hulk of rippling
muscle. I can smell his musk and coating of dirt, the powerful odor
of sweat on him. He reaches for me and I make to scream, but he
doesn’t lift me, only rolls me from my side and onto my stomach. He
pins me down, shifting his solid body atop me.
I kick and shout, but
there’s nothing I can do to get away. I squeeze my eyes shut,
waiting for the tear of my clothes… Instead, there is sharp pain on
my shoulder. He is pulling out the knives, which are still in my
flesh after the attack. I whimper as the first one leaves my
shoulder. My flesh is relieved that the knife is removed, but this
action has reawakened all awareness of my wounds.
His firm hand holds down my
objections as he removes the second knife from my back. I try to kick
to get away, but his knee presses into my thigh and just beside it he
pulls out the third knife. I cry into the thick fur.
Despite the pain, I am
acutely aware of his fingers wrapping around the hem of my dress. I
turn, trying to move my bound wrists to stop him, but I’m pincered
against the ground.
“No, no, no,” I beg as I
feel him pull my dress up my legs. I feel the chilling night air on
my bare skin. He speaks in his guttural language, as if he’s trying
to soothe me, and continues to pull up my dress until he’s exposed
my back. I’m afraid next he’ll go for my undergarments, which
gives me a wave of panic, along with excitement. Maybe it wouldn’t
be so bad to be taken by a husky barbarian.
But he doesn’t try to
expose my womanhood. He rinses my wounds, then dabs them with the
soft side of some cured leather. Then he pushes a wooden bowl filled
with a greenish-white unguent under my nose. It smells of flowers,
natural oils, and leaves. He shows me a finger that he dabs into the
salve, and then rubs the stuff over my deep wounds. It is deliciously
cool and I feel numbness spread out from his gentle touch. I bite my
lip when he rubs the salve on my thigh, and not from the pain.
If he’s going to eat me,
then why heal me? Perhaps he’s keeping me alive until he’s eaten
his other stores. I sigh, relieved the sting is lessening.
The barbarian’s hands
return to my back. I shudder and tense out of instinct. But then the
firm roll of his hands on my muscles sends me into a deep relaxation.
The tension fades from my body. A deep weariness comes over me.
The barbarian sets the sweet
smelling bowl just before my face and I can’t help but breathe in
the strong scent with every breath. There’s a pinching sting
against one of the cuts on my back, but not as painful as before.
When I feel the pull of my skin, I recognize that he’s sewing shut
the wound. My concern fades with my strength, and I relish in the
warm softness of the furs around my body, and the touch of the
barbarian’s hands against my skin.
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