A Proper Scottish Wife Ch. 03

Stuart said, "I know it's hard for you, my love. I do. But I wish my brothers to know and love you as I do. In all ways. I want you there for them as you are for me. To love them as you love me. When you love them, you love me; you honor me."

Ailene broke into tears. She turned to Stuart and cried into his shoulder.

"I feel like a whore!" she cried, wrenching sobs wracking her body. "You make me feel like a whore! How can I love a man who makes me feel that way? How can my husband say he loves me and then gives me to other people? How can you respect me; how can I respect myself if I'm fucking other men?"

Thorburn patted her shoulder and said, "Lady Cameron (he emphasized the Lady, letting her know that she was a lady and not a whore), when I was in Greenland, we made contact with many of the native inhabitants. They live in houses made of ice, hunt seals and white bears. It is the custom of those people, to honor a guest, to give their wife to the guest to help keep them warm at night. Of course, it is more than to keep them warm, as the faces of some of the children would indicate. But it is a matter of honor to these people that they give that which they love most to show the esteem in which the guest is held. It is an insult nae to accept their gift. If they would show you the honor of their gift, you must accept it in the same spirit. I know that we are not these natives, that you have not been raised to this expectation all of your life. But it is an honor that Stuart grants us, and in some way, it would be an insult to nae accept."

"It would be like saying that we dinna respect his gift," Frang added, "that it was not a worthy gift. I know that this concept is difficult to accept. Most people would nae understand it. We dinna understand it really; it's just something we've always done and always will do."

"What I think is really important for you to understand," Thorburn said, "is that we know how much Stuart loves you. I've never seen him so happy. Because he loves you, his gift is more magnificent; greater than we could ever know. And because he loves you and you love him, and make him so happy; we love you for making him happy. Aye, we love you, too."

Madness, it was madness, Ailene thought. It made a demented kind of sense, but what insanity! What was she to do? Should she surrender to their crazy? What would happen if she did? What would happen if she dinna do it? Her primary concern was that Stuart would stop loving her if she shared herself with his brothers. What if the opposite was true? What if he only continued to love her if she loved his brothers, but would begin to hate her if she refused?

"I don't insist upon this, my love," Stuart said, "if you canna do it yourself. It would be rape if I made you; if you're taken against your will. Just know that it is my hope and my wish that you agree to this. It means everything to me that you submit to them as you do to me, in all ways, any or every day they wish it, under the rules that were established."

He kissed her lips, her forehead, then left the armory, Thorburn going with him.

Frang barred the door behind them. He took Ailene in his arms until her sobbing ceased.

"Lassie, lassie, I will nae make you do anything now. Tis your decision. It will always be your decision. You don't have to decide this instant, but we should still rub the ointment on your legs. Will you allow me to do that for you?"

"Aye, I suppose," she said.

"Just sit back down on the stool."

She sat down and he took his seat again. He took her left leg and setting it in his lap, removed her shoe and stocking, and began rubbing the ointment on her foot, then her calf, and finally her thigh. His hands only went midway up her thigh, for the moment respecting her non-decision about her participation in their sharing. It felt good, that she admitted to herself. His hands were sure, massaging her tired, sore flesh so that it finally began feeling normal again. He set her left leg down and picked up her right. Removing the shoe and stocking, he repeated the process on her right leg. After reaching mid thigh, he poured more of the ointment in his hands and reached for her soft thigh, and watching her face closely, moved his hand farther up. He intended to stop if she showed any inclination that he was going beyond the bounds of her propriety.

Ailene watched Frang watching her. She knew what he was doing and that it was within her ability to stop this right now, that she did not have to continue in this madness. One sign from her and it would cease, a decision to be made on some other day, perhaps. Or never. She felt his hand creep higher on her leg. Soon he was rubbing at the very top of her leg, his hand within a fingers width of her sex. She closed her eyes.

Frang saw her eyes close and knew that he had her tacit permission to continue. His hand continued upward, massaging both upper thighs, her hips, the muscles on either side of her groin, his hand frequently brushing the hair guarding her sex. When the last of the ointment on his fingers had been massaged into her skin, he took a finger and gently brushed her labial lips. A light tickling at first; gently separating the hairs, pushing the folds aside. He steadily increased the pressure, sliding one finger, then two, through the wetness beginning to flow from her sex. Using the fluid to slick the way from her sheath to her fleshy nub.

Frang was as good with his fingers as he was with his tongue, and Ailene parted her legs, granting him more access to her sex. Her nether lips were parting, her nipples hardening to little nuggets of wrinkled flesh under her shift, her fleshy nubbin was standing at attention. His fingers shifted downward again and she felt his two middle fingers penetrate her dampened slit, while his thumb continued to pay attention to his clit. Ailene let out a moan and began rocking back and forth on the stool, riding his fingers.

"Aaahh," she sighed. She reached up with her right hand and loosening her stays, pulled a breast from her shift and fondled it in front of Frang.

He leaned forward and suckled her nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around it, biting and teasing the turgid flesh lightly with his teeth. Ailene moaned again, louder and longer this time, riding his hand faster and faster. Frang was going to make her release, his teasing tongue and long, agile fingers doing their work all too well. Her breathing changed to rapid little pants, shorter and faster with each breath. Suddenly, she stuffed her left hand in her mouth to stifle the sounds of her orgasm. Her sheath pulsated on his fingers, squeezing them tightly together, releasing, and squeezing again. Her legs also squeezed together, the intensity of her release so strong that she needed to stop his fingers from their penetration due to her sensitivity.

When her breathing returned to normal, her eyes opened, and her thighs parted to allow the withdrawal of his hand, Frang pulled it from between her legs and licked the moisture collected there from his fingers. He stood up and lifted his kilt, exposing the rigid shaft growing from between his legs.

"Perhaps you could do something to fix this wee problem, Lady Cameron?" Frang asked.

It was nae a wee problem, Ailene saw. While he may nae have been as thick as Stuart, he was fully as long. He dinna wait for her reply, but stepped forward until she faced the problem directly. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. She opened her mouth and felt his cock slide in until he was tickling the back of her throat. She grabbed his hips in her hands and holding him still, moved her head up and down, tonguing the shaft and head.

He grabbed her head, using her to steady himself as he felt his legs begin to weaken as she ministered to his prick. With each stroke, he felt himself go farther and farther into her mouth, proceeding even as far as her throat. Thorburn was right, Frang thought. It was like she had no gag reflex. She was breathing through her nose and although he felt her attempt to swallow, it was a mere tightening of her throat as his cock was plugging that orifice to his balls. He had been well worked up by his pleasuring of her and as soon as her right hand left his hip and grasped his sack in a wee hand, he exploded in her mouth, releasing a muffled groan as he did so. He too was careful not to let his orgasmic cries leave the confines of the armory.

Just as it had the previous night, there was nowhere for his cum to go. His cock was all the way down her throat. She couldn't swallow it, nor could all of it just flow to her stomach. Some of it backed up in her mouth and dribbled out the corners. She held his shaft in her mouth until the pulsing ended and he began to shrink, giving it a couple more sucks and licks as he withdrew to clean it off, then wiping the excess flow from her mouth and chin.

"Lady Cameron, that was most incredibly gratifying. Stuart's a lucky man."

As on the previous night, she felt a perverse pride at his words. How could she be proud of sucking another man's cock?

She finished straightening her clothes, refastening her stays over her shift. Before she left the armory, Frang gave her a couple of balls of cloth.

"These have seeds sewn inside," Frang said. "For a half hour each night, I want you to squeeze one of these balls in your right hand to strengthen the hand, the wrist and the arm. You can use the other ball in the left hand if you want to maintain equal strength in both. Squeeze as hard as you can, holding for 20-30 seconds, then releasing for the same amount of time. It's important to have a strong grip when fencing."

Ailene made sure she was presentable, took her epee and left Frang in the armory.