Ashara: "So this is White Hell..."

Butler: "Yes, Your Highness."

Ashara gazed across the endless white wasteland. Snow danced wildly in the wind, and distant peaks loomed like frozen giants. It was cold—dangerously so—but beneath her thick cloak, her skin prickled not just from the frost.

Ashara: "I heard the only humans who live here are the snow barbarians."

Butler: "Yes. Watch out for them, Your Highness. They are savage brutes who only know how to use their fists. Since the number of female barbarians is low, they impregnate any women who pass by in these plains in order to increase their population."

Ashara: "Th-Th... thanks for the heads up..."

She tried to sound composed, but her voice cracked. Her face flushed slightly—from the cold... or maybe not entirely.

Ashara's thoughts: I've only read about them in books... savage, beastly men with impossible strength and little restraint... And I've always fantasized about them, especially their big cocks...

A few hours later, her fantasy collided with reality—hard. The hired mercenaries lay groaning, some unconscious, others too scared to move. Weapons scattered. Defeat hung in the air like the cold mist curling around them.

Ashara stood alone.

Before her stood him—the one the locals only whispered about. The Barbarian King. Towering. Massive. Bare-chested in the brutal cold, his muscles glistening with sweat that refused to freeze, heat rising from his body like a furnace against the snow.

Ashara stumbled back a step—not from fear, but instinct. Her heart pounded. Her thighs pressed together on their own. She tried to steady herself, straightened her posture, pulled her shoulders back—unaware that the motion made her already huge breasts push out under her tight bodice, the thick fabric straining ever so slightly. The weight of her full breasts shifted, subtly jiggling as she fought to keep her balance.

His eyes flicked down—briefly—and her body reacted. Heat shot up her neck. The wind blew again, harsh and sudden. Her royal cloak whipped back, pressing tightly to her curves, outlining her hips and chest like painted silk.

Ashara's thoughts: H-how did it get to this...? My men... defeated... Bu-but why am I so... warm? My heart won't stop racing... No! I shouldn't have such thoughts, but... he looks so rugged, ripped... those arms... He could probably crush me with his hands alone and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it... I'm like a helpless little thing in front of him...

The Barbarian King stepped forward, the ground crunching under his massive weight. She flinched. He said nothing. Just stared. She opened her mouth—only one whisper escaped.

Ashara: "Ha-have mercy..."

Her voice cracked. Her breath hitched. She didn't know whether she meant mercy from his strength... or from the thoughts flooding her mind.