A Proper Scottish Wife Ch. 16

"I love you, Ailene. I was a fool. I know it now. I'm so sorry, my love."

"I forgive you, Stuart. It was as much my fault as yours. I let you convince me. It's over and done. We'll speak no more of it. We need to move beyond it now." She pulled his head down to her breasts and stroked the curly hair atop his head. "I'm happy, Stuart. I can't imagine a better ending to this day. Isobel becoming part of our family, celebrating with friends and family, two people joining together in love." She kissed the top of his head. "If you'll hang up my dress for me, I'll see if I can't encourage another cockstand from you. The Midsummer is overflowing with magic and any child born of our union this night will be a truly special child."

She climbed deep in the covers while Stuart hung her dress and welcomed him with open arms when he came to bed. As she said, the night was filled with magic and her lips and tongue soon encouraged him to another bout of love.

******

"Are you sure?" Thorburn asked. "I could still arrange for you to share Isobel's room."

Teárlag reached under his kilt to grasp his meaty cock, felt it growing in her hand.

"I've wanted to feel this inside me again ever since the first time. You gave me so much pleasure, Thorburn. More than I've ever known. I'm a grown woman who knows what she wants. I want you. Don't make me beg."

He picked her up, nudged his door open with his shoulder and kicked it closed behind him.

"You handle me like that, it's me who'll be begging," he whispered throatily, burying his lips in the arch of her neck.

She shivered.

"Do you care to know what I wanted to do when I saw you coming down the stairs in this Frenchy dress?" Thorburn asked.

"What?" She whispered, turning her head to capture his hot lips, scalding her skin like an iron.

"Your nipples were hard and pointy and a shadow under this flimsy yellow fabric. I wanted to rip the stuff off your breasts with my teeth and bite those proud peaks till you moaned like a cat in heat. Then run my hand up your leg until I reached the soft red muff at the juncture of your legs and finger your sex until you were dripping and ready to take my cock. It was all I could do to restrain myself."

"Then it worked the way it was meant to. What's stopping you now?"

"How much did the damn dress cost?"

"I don't care. Take me now."

He growled deep in his throat and clenching the fabric in his teeth, ripped it from her chest. She moaned in desire as she felt him bite her nipple as he'd promised. It swelled, stiff against his tongue and she arched her back to feed more of her breast into his mouth. He tossed her on the bed and his hand moved up her leg until he felt her damp heat with his big hand, then thrust a finger into her liquid core. Her hips rocked up to take more of his digit inside herself, her legs spreading with a will of their own to provide him more access.

"I want you so much," she breathed. "Put another finger in me, hurry."

She felt another finger slide in beside the first and reached up to pull his head down to hers, covering his face with kisses while sliding her feet towards her ass so she could thrust up against his hand.

"I'm going to climax already, Thorburn. I've been aroused all day, thinking of you. Oh, God, Mmmm," she mewled.

He felt her constricting on his fingers and knew she'd found her first orgasm.

"It's time to get serious about this," he announced, pushing her dress up, exposing her splayed legs to his eyes, devouring her thin form with a look as ravenous as a hungry wolf's.

Teárlag shuddered. Not even bothering to remove his clothes, Thorburn rucked his kilt up and tugged her legs, pulling her torso to the edge of the bed. The blunt head of his prick poised at her threshold and with a single quick thrust, entered her, pulling a startled gasp of pleasure from her lips. He held still, letting her feel his need, his cock an inflexible rod stretching her supple tunnel. He looked down at her, the tiny 'O' formed by her lips as he'd pushed into her depths, the hunger in her eyes matching his own. Holding her gaze he moved, slowly backing from her body, nearly gone before slamming forward again, her eyes closing, feeling so full of him.

"Again, love, again," she whispered.

The slow withdrawal, ramming ahead even harder the second time, the base of his cock slamming into the stretched folds of her cunt, his heavy sack swinging into her upturned ass.

"Aaahhh," she moaned, rising arousal demanding another release to ease the mounting pressure. "More, more, more," she whimpered.

Thorburn obeyed, rocking back and forth in staccato rhythm, each plunge of his prick squelching delightfully in the vital fluids leaking from her center. His hands plundered her breasts, squeezing, molding, massaging, the calloused palms taunting her tender nipples with their roughness.

Teárlag felt her insides draw tight, like a bowstring about to snap, a rising tension crying for relief. Finally, it came, like tumbling through space, the pressure snapping, a pure gratification of muscles held taut letting free, easing her down a long slope of pleasure. Her cunt clinging to his cock in crushing tremors, seeking to draw forth his seed.

"You make me cum again, Lord."

Thorburn, sensing his sap rising, tried to pull out so that he would not loose his seed inside her womb, but her legs wrapped around his clenching buttocks even as her pussy pulsated, milking his prick.

"Lady," he strained, struggling to withhold it. "My seed. I cannot last much longer."

"Don't," she panted. "Give it to me. Give it all to me. I don't care."

Thorburn gave up the effort and Teárlag felt his cock flexing, multiple times, and a flood of his thick cream flooded her womb, leaking past the seal formed by their conjoined bodies to run down the crease of her ass.

Her own tremors starting to ease, she more easily felt him give two more short thrusts as if to wring the last drops from his balls, then the inflexible hardness of him began to ease as he softened.

"Are you not afraid to have a child, Lady, and you unmarried?" He whispered to her, his shrinking tool slowly slipping from her body.

"Nay. I don't care," she said, finally releasing the clutch of her legs, allowing him to pull out.

"While willing to support a child," Thorburn said, "I'm not ready for marriage. People will look down on you for having a child out of wedlock."

"I've more than enough money to raise a child, Thorburn" Or Blackthorne does, she thought, and I fully intend to let him raise any child I bear of yours. "I've long since ceased to care what others thought of me. My prior husbands left me with nothing but money. No children, no love, no pleasure such as yours. If I were to have a child with you, it would give me great satisfaction to know we've made something permanent together."

He got off the bed, thinking. He removed his clothes, and standing naked, solid and real, before her, helped her remove what remained of her dress.

"The brocade might be saved with a bit of cleaning," he said, "but the undershift is torn beyond repair, I'm afraid. I was a bit rough with it."

"It served it's purpose. I wanted you panting for me, Thorburn. I wanted the animal inside you to come out and play."

"Aye, all day long, I thought of you. From the moment I saw you this morning, to the dress, to your hand on my thigh at dinner, every dance, it was all I could do not to throw you on the floor and have my way with you. You mesmerize me. I've never met another woman who spoke her mind like you, acted like you, cared so little for convention. You're the most unusual woman I've ever met."

"Mmm, hmm," she said, "and don't ever forget it."

With that, she slowly sank to the floor, her hands slowly fluttering down his hairy chest, the hard planes of his stomach, around to his ass which she gripped hard as she parted her lips, her tongue darting out to lick daintily at the combined fluids of their love still coating his softened prick. She pulled back the foreskin, the tip of her tongue tracing the edges of the crown, up the frenum and up to the slit upon which one last drop of cum lingered, swirling it up into her mouth. She looked up at him with her green eyes, capturing his gaze as her lips split to surround the head, her tongue swirling and twirling in a complicated dance already making him swell. The larger he grew, the more of him she possessed in her mouth, her lips straining to contain him.

"You temptress," he breathed. "I want you again."

She drew back to speak. "And you can have me. All night long. Every moment. With your hands, your mouth, your cock, whatever you can use to possess me. I give it all to you." She swallowed him once more, her mouth encircling him, engulfing him, taking as much as she could as his cock mushroomed in size.

"Fuck!" He cried out, picking her up and tossing her on the bed like a toy doll. He started to climb over her, ready to sink his prick into liquid heat once more.

"Nay, Thorburn," she said. "We've taken the greater edge off our lust already. I want this time to be slower, longer, more languid. We have the night together. Lie down on your back."

He paused and smiled, then did as she commanded. She climbed over him and positioned her cunt at his mouth.

"Lick me. Make me spend with your mouth."

She parted her folds with her hands, and he ran his tongue up her slit and over her clit, peaking from it's protective slit.

"Mmmm. So good," she sighed.

One of his hands grasped a soft buttock while the other grasped a breast, thrusting proudly from her chest, the nipple a turgid peak. He thumbed and twisted it in his massive fingers while delivering another lick to her exposed pussy. She began to rock on his chest, her cunt riding his mouth like a horse, continuous moans passing her lips as he pleasured her with his lips and tongue. More liquid flowed from her core and he struggled to keep up with the flow of sweet nectar mixed with his own seed. Her rocking picked up and when he sensed her impending release, he sucked her stiff clitoris in between his lips while tonguing the tip. She gave a small scream of pleasure and pushed her pussy against his mouth. He could feel it spasming and contracting above him, a fresh rush of fluid running down his chin.

He kept tonguing her, keeping her tremors going until she slid off him exclaiming, "Too much, too much. I'm so sensitive, tis almost painful."

"You liked it then?"

"Aye," she said. "Twas a wonderful ride."

She looked down at him, a glaze of her fluids about his mouth and chin, his beard damp with her spend.

"Messy boy," she laughed, starting to lap her fluids from his face.

When she was done, she glanced down the muscled length of him to find his cock still hard and bobbing with his heart beat.

"Good, you didn't lose it," Teárlag said, encircling his engorged cock with her hand.

"Unlikely," Thorburn replied. "Not with the scent of your sex so fresh in my nostrils."

"You like the scent of me, then?"

"It's intoxicating," he replied. "As is your taste, both sweet and tangy."

She climbed back on top of him, placing his prick at her entrance and slowly sinking over the girth of him, sighing as he split her in two again.

She sat there, enjoying the fullness of his massive prick packing her tightly stretched pussy.

"Now, Lord Cameron; a game. I have found my seat for the next hour or so. It is a lovely seat and I find it both comfortable and pleasurable, so I don't intend to remove myself from it for awhile. I'm going to ask you some questions and each time you answer me, I will move, giving you pleasure. Answer enough of them and I shall stimulate you to cum. Don't, and I shall only move enough to keep you hard and leaving you very frustrated. Are you willing to play?"

"Aye. Why not."

"Tell me about your mother."

As long as he said nothing, she sat inert upon his prick, not moving, but a delicious, tight fit. As soon as he began to speak, her cunt began to massage his cock in the most delicious way, though she scarce moved herself, merely caressing it from within.

"My mother was a Viking Shield maiden; Brynhildr, she was named. My father met her at a Norse trading town. At first, she would have nothing to do with him. But he continued to court her and she finally agreed to marry him if he could best the greatest warrior in the town, her brother, Bjarkë. Jamison was big, nearly as large as me, but Bjarkë had never previously been bested in combat. I understand the battle was fierce, lasting for over thirty minutes before my father disarmed him and forced him to yield. Brynhildr was exceedingly surprised by this state of affairs, but true to her vow, she married Jamison that day. Jamison hired Bjarkë to train his men so Brynhildr would have some family about. I spent a few years raiding and warring with Bjarkë, learning the ways of my mothers people after my eighteenth birthday, and he remains my weapons master to this day."

The delightful sensations ceased when he stopped speaking and he smiled up at her. "Another question, please. I find the answers so much more stimulating."

She grinned back at him. "What happened to Brynhildr?"

"She died in childbirth." The massaging continued. "I was too large and tore her badly. She bled to death. The only time I've rued my size was learning I'd killed her. Another one."

"Do all you brother's have different mothers?"

"Aye. Frang's mother was a Frenchwoman, Amandine, Jamison met her in the French court. She was one of the queen's handmaids. The queen didn't want to give her up, but the King insisted. He hated the English as much Jamison did and was eager to support anyone who hated the English. She died of a fever when Frang was two and I was six. Stuart's mother was Beatrix, an Englishwoman who survived a shipwreck off our coast. She was brought to Dervaig by the folks that found her where Jamison met her. He had two young boys who he believed would benefit from a mother, so he courted her until she agreed to be his wife."

"An Englishwoman?"

"Well, aye. Politics plays no part in affairs of the heart and family need, at least to Jamison. She was mother to us for longer than either of the first two wives, and gave Jamison his third son. She was a kind and loving woman, treating us all as her own. I left home after her death."

"Ailene tried to explain your father's philosophy regarding servants and tenants, and I understood some of it; at least that it's been successful, but I'm not sure I understand all. Can you explain it?"

"A lot of the changes happened after I left. I understand Jamison was reading works by men he admired and decided to put their philosophies to the test. All I really know is it's been quite successful. Stuart might be able to tell you more. Twas he instituting most of the changes under Jamison's guidance."

Teárlag continued to tease his cock by squeezing it within her sheath, not enough to bring him to completion, but enough to keep him hard and snug within her. All in all, he was enjoying her little game.

"How does the strapping thing work?"

"The punishments for any infraction are clear and explained to all. When one is committed, it's brought before the Laird for judgment. The infraction is discussed, including any extenuating circumstances, then the punishment is carried out. The rules apply to everyone equally as you saw today. Nothing is capricious and arbitrary. Everyone knows what's going to happen."

"And it's always the same?"

"Yes, on the whole. For example, it would normally be fifty swats for an instance of theft, a hundred for the second, depending upon circumstances."

"Fifty swats. I know men who'd take the hand of a thief, or brand him. What's to stop someone from robbing you blind?"

"There's little incentive to do so. We treat our people so much better than others. They know that. Most of them profit more than they would anywhere else. Where great need exists, we encourage them to ask for help and if it can be provided them, it is. There's very little thievery that goes on. We had a maid steal some silver a while back because her brother was sick and needed medical care. She was still fairly new and didn't think to ask for aid."

"And all she got was fifty swats?" Teárlag began to breath a little harder. Apparently, her ministrations were having a similar affect on her as they had on him.

"No, unfortunately. She should have, but due to a misunderstanding, Ailene dismissed her rather than give her the prescribed punishment. It was foolish. The poor girl disappeared, we don't know where, whether it was into a life of prostitution or some other accident befell her. Even her family doesn't know where she is or what happened."

"You've been in contact with her family?"

"Aye, we've given them food and helped with the doctor for her brother."

"You're helping them, despite their daughter stealing from you?"

"The poor lass was trying to help. Her parents are old, the brother too sick to work. She was the only source of income for the family. That's the bad of it. If she'd asked for help, we'd have done the same without her resorting to theft."

Teárlag stared down at him in wonder. What a contrast to everyone and everything else she knew. Blackthorne was a devil next to him. Hell, he might be the devil anyway, but the difference was so remarkable as to be shocking.

"How long ago was this?"

"Shortly after Isobel came, six or seven weeks ago."

"What was her name?" Teárlag asked, thinking of the poor lass stuck in Blackthorne's dungeon. She'd been there around six weeks to her knowledge.

"Màiri."

Teárlag was silent for a few more moments.

"Have you no more questions? Is the game over already?" Thorburn asked.

"Why did you agree to be punished with Isobel?" She asked. She started to ride him in addition to compressing his cock within her sheath. Not much, an inch or so at most, but the difference in sensation was not lost on Thorburn. He felt himself swell a bit more at the increased movement.

"That's a long story. Do you want to hear it?"

"Please," she whimpered. "I want to know what possessed you to do such a thing. I cannot imagine it."

Given she was moving more on him, he began to thumb her nipples, causing a swift intake of breath.

"Hurry," she said.

"Isobel was married to a pig of a man named McTavish. He was an inveterate gambler, and a poor one at that, and a brutal animal besides. He beat her for no reason, as nice and pleasant a person as she is. He owed money to many folk and when he had no money to pay them, he'd whore his wife to others to meet his debts. You already know Frang won her in a card game. He felt sorry seeing her slapped and struck by her husband for no reason. When he needed to bet something to stay in the game, Frang got him to bet her. When she arrived here, she was a starved, timid, frightened creature afraid she'd now be abused by another. It's taken a lot of work and effort to give her confidence enough to realize her own worth and beauty. She's still afraid to accept the love and affection of another man. I fear she's only marrying Frang now because of the bairn. I know they have some arrangement to this marriage because she was willing to refuse at first, though I know not what it is yet. Frang and Ailene may be the only ones to know.

We all realized subjecting her to punishment on her own would do nothing to heal her and only increase her dread of men. Only by letting her see it's not just her subject to punishment, but everyone, provided they fall short of the rules, could she see she's no more nor less than anyone else and it's only her subject to mistreatment. I could provide the best lesson for her. I would not see her revert back to the timid mouse she was when she arrived."