A Proper Scottish Wife

I am a writer submitting material for an audience for the first time, and I would greatly love having any feedback, good or bad, that you could provide regarding my story writing. It will essentially be a novel, submitting a chapter at a time. My wife convinced me to go from feet and hands in distance to feet and inches, and stone to pound. I also have used a few Scottish terms to set mood; nae for no or not, aye for yes, dinna for don't, canna for can't. Not a lot of them, but a few. If you feel that this detracts or adds to the story, let me know. It can be adjusted in future chapters.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ailene sat down on the ground and fanned herself. She was still wearing cold weather clothes, her woolen shift, the heavy brocade stays, the woolen skirt. Unfortunately, the weather was warmer than usual for this time of year. It was a beautiful sunny day; she had left with the sunrise to collect herbs for medicines. The area outside the Keep had ample amounts of Betony, Blacberry, Lesser Burdock, Bog Myrtle, Wild Garlic, Meadowsweet, Wild Marjoram, Tormentil and Valerian. The winter months had seriously depleted the Keep's supplies, and she wanted to replenish their stores. Some needed to be dried to be effective, which took time. She was going against the explicit wishes of the Laird, Thorburn, and her husband, Stuart, by leaving Cameron Keep without guards, but it was ridiculous that she take several guards for the day, especially when everything needed was within a half mile of the Keep.

She pondered the strange relationships between the brothers. Thorburn was Stuart's eldest brother, and nominally the leader of the Cameron family, but he let Stuart run the clan business since he'd been doing it for the last five years as their father's health deteriorated.

Thorburn was the eldest son of Jamison Cameron and the former Viking shield maiden, Brynhildr. Jamison had met her at one of the Viking trading settlements that sprang up on the coast. Their courtship was unusual; he'd had to defeat the Vikings best warrior before she would look at him. But after he'd proven himself a doughty warrior, she did. Thorburn was the result of their union. He was 32, blue-eyed, reddish-blonde hair, tall; easily 6 feet 4 inches, and 225 pounds. He was massive, easily confirming the name his mother had given him before bleeding out in childbirth - Thor's Bear. He'd gone raiding with his mother's people after reaching 18 summers. He'd lived an adventurous life since, selling his services as a mercenary in various armies, and exploring parts of Greenland. He'd returned home with his uncle, Brynhildr,s brother, Bjarke, after the death of his father to take over as the Laird. He had no interest in the details of managing clan matters, which is why Stuart continued running things. He took over the training of the Men-at-Arms.

Frang, the middle child, was 28, 5 feet, 9 inches tall and 180 pounds. He had his mothers eyes and hair, brown and black respectively. He was the result of the marriage of Jamison and a French woman, Amandine. Frang meant French in Gaelic. Jamison met Amandine a couple years after the death of his first wife, Brynhildr. They met while Jamison visited the French court, trying to arrange the trade of Scottish woolens and fish with the French. While unnecessary to directly involve the crown in his trading, receiving the proper letters of introduction from the French crown made his job easier. Amandine was one of the Queens handmaidens and while the Queen was not fond of giving up her favorite maid to the gruff Scotsman, the King insisted. Anyone who hated the English as he did should be aided at all costs. Unfortunately, that marriage was nearly as brief as his first and the lovely Amandine died of the fever when Frang was two.

Frang was a gambler, a womanizer and a lover of horses. He left his father's household at 18 as well, going to France and successfully keeping himself in clothes, food and women by gambling without resorting to the money his father provided him when he left. Cards, dice, horse racing, it didn't matter what he gambled on, it was all the same to him. Because the women with whom he associated weren't always unattached, Frang was forced into a few duels against slighted husbands. He was quite adept at that too. After the death of his father, he also returned home.

That left Stuart, her husband. Stuart was 24, nearly a head taller than her, with green eyes and brown hair, and 195 pounds. His mother was an English woman, Beatrix, whose ship had wrecked in a storm off the rocky coast near their home. All survivors were brought to Dervaig where Jamison met her on a market day. Her family had all died in the wreck and she was still young at 28, nearly half the age of Jamison when they met. He believed that his two young sons needed a mother, so he courted and eventually married her. Stuart was the only progeny of that marriage and she had been a wonderful mother to all three boys until her death when thrown from a horse. Her death was the last thing holding Thorburn at home and he left soon after. Jamison had not married again. He felt unluckily fated in love. All his wives dying quite young and fairly soon after he'd married, Beatrix lasting the longest at eleven years.

Ailene had married Stuart just under eight months ago. They had married after the harvest season, three months before Jamison died. It was an arranged marriage, Jamison wanting to find a proper wife for his son before he was gone. Jamison had slowly deteriorated for several years and Stuart was forced into much of the running of the Keep and lands of the Laird. Stuart was a good catch for her, even if he was the third son, because at the time, no one knew if or when his older brothers would ever return.

The amazing thing was, she couldn't love Stuart more than if she'd picked him herself. She was the lady of the house until his brothers married. When they married, she would have to surrender her position, but until then, she governed the household. The two older brothers had missed the wedding, no one knowing for certain where they were. It wasn't until after Jamison's death that letters had found them and they'd returned home.

Stuart was kind, handsome, strong and lusty. That he was attracted to her, she knew well, because he was always after her. Not a day went by without him sneaking up behind her and running his hands over her breasts or bum, or lifting her skirts and taking her when there wasn't a servant present. It didn't matter if it was the bedroom, the kitchen, the pantry or the barn, he enjoyed pleasuring his wife and she enjoyed being pleasured. It wasn't unusual for her to be brushing hay or flour off her skirts, adjusting them, straightening her hair, while slapping his hands away if a servant happened by, a blush in her cheeks at being caught thus disheveled. She knew the servants commented on it.

The oddity of the brother's relationships was their unnatural closeness to one another. Maybe it was because they'd spent so much time together when young, especially between mother's. Maybe it was that they'd been so long apart, but whatever it was, it bordered on abnormal. It seemed that they should be competing against one another all the time; that was the way of it in most homes. But not with Thorburn, Frang and Stuart.

If Stuart bought something at the market and one of the others remarked upon it, it was immediately gifted to them. If Frang had a favorite horse and Thorburn or Stuart expressed an interest, it was theirs. If Thorburn had a blade that he particularly cared for and Stuart said he would like one similar, the blade was given to him. There was nothing that any of them had they would not immediately give to his brother if they expressed an interest. Ailene had asked Stuart about it once after he'd given his best hunting dog to Thorburn and Stuart just said that they shared everything, always had, always would.

Ailene glanced around the glade where she'd gathered her herbs. The trees and bushes around it were thick and dense and it was unlikely that anyone would stumble through it by accident. As there was no one around, she loosened her stays and lifted her skirts, slipping one hand between her legs while the other gently stroked her breast. Just imagining her husband and the many ways that he appreciated her womanly charms was enough to cause the wetness to flow between her legs. The thought of his big hands fondling her breasts or his stiff cock plunging into her damp folds caused her breath to catch in her throat. She couldn't believe how lucky she was to have found a lover like him who made every time she was with him a joy and a pleasure.

Ailene remembered her marriage night distinctly, already wet in the remembrance. Her fingers lazily stroked herself as she recalled that magical night. She came to her marriage bed a virgin and somewhat afraid based upon the stories told her by others. The pain of surrendering maidenhood to a man had been reported by all of her married friends. It was with no little trepidation that Stuart led her upstairs to the hoots and hollers of the attending guests, some of them quite lewd and obscene. She remembered blushing as she heard their comments and Stuart's laughing good-naturedly at their ribald comments.

Stuart led her into their bedroom, a fire already lit in the fireplace, bringing the temperature to a nice, warm level, perhaps a bit too warm for clothes. Stuart removed his coat, tossing it over a chair by the fire and led her to the bed. He had her sit on the bed while he took off her shoes, then her stockings, his hand caressing her thighs in the process. Taking her hands, he raised her to a standing position, and with her facing the fire, the light flickering on her face, he slowly undressed her. First the overdress, the stays, the under dress, finally the chemise, exposing her pale breasts and the delta at her loins; making her to raise her arms to cover herself.

He held her hands in his and slowly pulled her hands out and away, saying, "Let me look at you, my beautiful wife."

He gathered her garments and laid them toward the end of the bed. Turning back to her, his heated gaze moved up and down her body, her hands rose again to cover her sex.

"Nae, lassie. You're wonderful. Take no shame in your appearance. You're as god made you, and no finer creation on all the earth has he made, I'd hold to it."

She blushed again and slowly lowered her hands to her sides, her fingers balling up in tight little fists, wanting more than anything to cover herself as this was the first time she'd ever been naked before a man. The firelight was bright enough to show all of her charms while still leaving intriguing shadows that Stuart was aching to explore.

Ailene had just turned 20. The top of her head came up to his shoulders. She was a slender 120 pounds and her breasts were perched high on her chest, pert and a wee bit more than a handful. A premise that he proceeded to check by placing his hands on them, checking their weight and heft in his palms. He felt her nipples stirring under his hands. He ran his hands down her sides, into her slim waist and over the swelling of her hips, wide enough to bear healthy children, but still slender. The thatch of hair at her cleft was slightly darker than the hair on her head, a lovely brunette with just a hint of red highlights from the sun. He knelt before her ran his hands down one leg and up the other, brushing her sex lightly as he did so. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, wondering if her virginity was to be taken right now. He stood and pulled her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. She had a light dusting of pale freckles on her slightly upturned nose, perfectly set in a nicely oval face, over a wide mouth with luscious lips he could imagine wrapping around his prick.

He leaned down and brushed her lips with his, saying, "Perhaps you could help me take off my things?"

It was posed as a question and not a demand. She removed the shoulder cloak of his filleadh mòr, then unlacing his shirt. After it was loosened, she grabbed the bottom and began tugging it up over his wide chest, exposing the curly little hairs on his chest, and over his head. She'd seen men's chests before; they often worked thus in the fields in the heat of the summer, and some men were hairy as bears while others had none, but Stuart had a nice dusting of soft hairs. Blushing, she wondered how they would feel pressed to her breasts. As she blushed, she lowered her head. Stuart didn't know what caused her to blush again, but he liked her modesty and how quickly it brought the color to her cheeks.

"There's still more to go," he said.

She blushed again and he raised his hand to brush her cheek. She looked down and pulled out the kilt pin. She unwrapped his kilt, many yards of fabric. The kilt dropped and he was naked beneath, save for knee socks and sturdy shoes. She turned him to the bed so he could sit. It took a couple tugs on each shoe for her to remove them, then she could pull the socks off.

While her face was down, working on his stockings and shoes, she stole a couple quick glances at his manhood. She was not totally naive; she lived in the country and had seen animals procreating. She knew what was down there, but not how it looked nor how big it was. Her mother had done her best to prepare her for the marriage night, including a limited description of a mans equipment. His was about four inches long and lying over his sack, but even as she snuck her quick glances, it seemed to be lengthening and thickening. After she'd removed his shoes and stockings, he stood up. She was kneeling before him, at the moment of truth. It was larger than she'd thought it would be, both longer and thicker. It was twitching somewhat, bobbing like a cork in a barrel and had veins running up and down it's length. The head was slightly hooded, with a head peeking from the hood.

"Have you ever seen one before?" Stuart asked.

"Nae on a man," Ailene answered.

"Go ahead and touch it," he said. "It's bigger than it normally is, but not as big as it's going to get."

"It gets bigger?" Ailene said, suddenly worried that this thing would be penetrating her body.

"It has to," he replied, "and harder too, the better to love you, my wife."

"Won't it hurt me if it's bigger than that?" Ailene asked.

"I won't lie to you. The first time is almost always painful, because your maidenhood has to be broken," he said. "But you have to remember that a child comes out of the same place that I will be putting my cock in, and that's much bigger. I know childbirth's quite painful, but we are speaking of something much smaller than that. I have nae doubt that I can make this more pleasurable than your fears make it. Go ahead, touch it."

Her hand reached out and grasped the roll of meat she was facing, like a sausage it was. When her fingers circled it, it leapt in her hand, and she pulled away.

"It won't hurt you," Stuart said, "touch it again."

Her fingers circled it again and this time she didn't pull away when it moved in her hand. It was heavy and warm, and softer than she thought it would be. The more she handled it, the larger and harder it became. The plum shaped head pushed its way from the hood and a small drop of clear fluid formed on the tip at the slit in the top of the plum.

"The fluid makes everything slippery, so it goes in easier. Touch it and find out," he said.

He was right. She touched it and her finger easily slid over the surface of the purplish head. It made her want to touch it more.

"That's enough of that. Come here," he said, sitting down and patting the bed beside him.

She sat on the bed and he pulled her down with him into a reclining position. He kissed her, gently at first, then with more force, owning her lips. His tongue began an assault on her mouth as he forced hers open and their tongues wrestled, slipping and sliding about, seemingly investigating every corner of her mouth. She could taste the ale that he'd toasted to their marriage with. His hand moved up to her breast and possessed it, kneading it, stroking and petting it. He felt her nipples grow and harden in his palms, and he pinched at them with his fingers, stretching and teasing them, never hurtful, but letting her know he now considered them his.

It wasn't long before his hand drifted down her torso and his lips replaced his fingers on her breasts, licking and sucking, paying attention to her nipples which she found most sensitive under his oral administrations and she moaned as his hand cupped her womanhood. His fingers stroked lightly up and down her inner thighs, gently urging them apart. When they were parted, she felt a single one of his fingers parting the hair of her delta and begin a light touching and stroking of her slit.

His gentle touch encouraged her to part her legs further and he increased the pressure of his finger, sliding it within the slit and parting the lips. She could feel the moisture flowing and his finger slid so easily up and down her slit, the labial petals separating to his touch. He spent more time on each stroke on the little nub of flesh at the top of her slit. Her head fell back and she sighed at the pleasurable sensations he was building in her. The heat seemed to be rising from her sex to her breasts, which he still fondled with his mouth, and up to her head, which spun from the delightful way his finger slid over and around her nub.

When his finger penetrated her, Ailene gasped. It went in just a tiny way, so it did not hurt, but the sense of being penetrated, even a little, was disquieting to her. Even when she'd touched herself, she hadn't dared to penetrate herself. His finger lingered, slipping slowly in and out, sliding a wee bit deeper each time. She felt her wetness, the strange fluttery feeling that he incited in her. Still he laved her breasts, first one, then the other, his finger sliding wetly into her, causing her to pant at the strange feelings he evoked.

Soon it felt that he must have reached the end of his finger as it did not appear that it would penetrate farther. It was then she realized that he had reached her maidenhood and was pressing at the gates. Was this to be the time? His mouth left her breasts and he began kissing his way down her body, nipping and licking at her lower ribs and her belly, smoothly moving down her body with his mouth and tongue until he was licking and kissing the skin above the first hairs of her sex.

When he moved his head between her legs and kissed her sex, she started in surprise, sure that no one would want to put their mouth there.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Relax, this is a very enjoyable thing,"he replied. To emphasize his words, he continued his assault on the folds of her sex, while reaching up and stroking her breasts with his hand again.

Holy Mother of God, was he right. His tongue was laving her bud while his hands worked on her breasts. The feelings were incredible, like nothing she'd ever experienced before. The heat build up was indescribable; her breath was rapid, she panted like a dog. He penetrated her again with his finger, then another, rubbing the roof of her slick channel. Her pleasure peaked and she moaned as she experienced her orgasm, thrusting her hips up against his hand and fingers and his magic tongue. As soon as he was sure she was in the throes of her climax, he pushed his fingers roughly into her cunt, breaking her maidenhood. A quick burst of pain, almost lost in the pleasure, and it was over. She was a woman.

"It's better this way," Stuart said. "The pain is less while you are in the throes of passion, and when we finally consummate our marriage, it will feel good to you."

"My Lord is kind," she whispered, breathlessly. "I almost did not notice the pain for the pleasure you gave."