A Proper Scottish Wife Ch. 18

Isobel could feel her legs spread wider to give Frang more access to her sex. She could not recall willingly parting her legs for anyone before. Usually they were parted by force or threat of violence. What was he doing to her? As she spread more, he could reach more and his lips and tongue could now reach her pleasure button. He would swipe against it every time he licked her. Her nipples were stiff pegs under her hands as she molded them. Every touch of his tongue was increasing her arousal and each time she felt she must rupture, he pushed past that point. She panted, barely able to catch her breath, mewling anew with every slide of his tongue. Her legs were strained with tension keeping them spread for him. She could feel her hips rolling towards his face to increase the pressure of his tongue on her. When Isobel felt she would yell in frustration from her desire to cum, Frang suckled her clit and she shattered into myriad fragments.

Isobel bit her hand to keep from screaming as loud as Teárlag had the previous morning; as surprised she needed to scream as she was the spasms fluttering through her body. Her free hand clutched Frang's head and jammed it against her twitching cunt as he continued to suck her taut nubbin. The sweet contractions continued for minutes, seeming to last nearly as long as the slow seduction of Frang bringing her to this conclusion. They only seemed to ease when Frang slowed the tempo and pressure of his oral digit upon her clit. Their cessation nearly as pleasurable as the climax, so sensitive was she to the touch. She was panting like a dog in August.

"Did you enjoy that, Isobel?" His voice seemed to come from a great distance away, the sound of her own blood pumping in her ears.

"Do you need to ask?" She replied. "Look at my hand. I had to bite it to keep from howling like Teárlag yesterday."

Frang laughed, happy to have pleased his new bride.

"We'll have Ailene look at it before we go," he chuckled. "Isn't it good to know that you're like other women and you can enjoy sex with a man?"

"This seems more like I can enjoy sex with a woman as you say it's what women do to please one another. I cannot say I like sex with a man until you fill me with your cock. That is what I'm unable to abide."

"True," Frang admitted. "Yet I feel this is a good start. I can please you and you can please me. We took these small steps toward mutual pleasure. The rest will come with time. Now, I need to use the chamber pot."

"Aye, me too. You go first, get dressed and give me some privacy, please."

"I'll see you at breakfast?" He asked.

"I'll join you there though I cannot eat more than a crust of bread. I'll let Isobel look at this," holding out her hand, "and perhaps she knows something to ease pregnancy sickness."

It was at that moment they heard a woman howling in ecstasy.

Isobel and Frang looked at each other. "Teárlag," they said as one and both broke into laughter.

"I guess she doesn't believe in doing her hand damage to stifle her cries," Frang said. "I wonder if the Lord Mayor stayed again last night? He will begin to wonder about us."

"I must learn to use the bed covers myself. I don't think my hand could take much more. Get on with thee then. I must use the pot quickly."

Frang hurriedly performed his ablutions, dressed and left, Isobel waiting patiently.

******

Not long after Frang and Isobel left the wedding feast, Teárlag implored Thorburn leave as well.

"I have to leave early tomorrow," Teárlag said. "I'd like to spend my last few hours here engaged in mad bouts of sexual congress. I can eat anytime."

"What about my guests," Thorburn said. "I'm the host. I should stay here, at least until people start to leave."

"Stuart and Ailene can represent the Camerons. They're married and can fuck anytime. Our time is limited. Ask them to stay, please, Thorburn." She ran her hand up his leg until she reached his cock, stroking him until she felt him start to grow.

"You keep that up, I'll throw you on the table and take you here."

"I don't care. Do it! Just as long as you take me. If you were to touch me now, you'd feel how wet I am. I can't wait to feel you inside me, Lord Cameron, to feel you pumping your marvelous prick in my cunt. I told you, you could fuck me on the streets of Dervaig. You can fuck me on this table as well. I'll strip naked and throw myself across your platter of meat. I'll suck your cock in front of the Lord Mayor. Whatever you wish me to do."

"Would you really?"

Teárlag knelt down and began to lift the edge of Thorburn's kilt. Thorburn pushed her hands away. Ailene turned and saw Teárlag on the floor in her dress and thought her ill.

"Are you sick, Lady Mackintosh?" She said. "Would you like someone to escort you to your room? I can bring something to soothe your stomach."

"I dropped a fork, but I am feeling a little weary. Not nearly enough sleep last night. Do you think you and Stuart could manage the rest of the party without Thorburn. He can escort me to my room and tuck me in."

Ailene glanced at Thorburn and noticed the hint of an erection below his kilt. She suddenly realized why Teárlag might have been on her knees and it had nothing to do with forks. She smiled at her bravado and wondered if Teárlag would really have sucked Thorburn's cock in front of all the wedding guests. Thorburn was trying to look angry, but she couldn't help but notice quick flickers of a smile behind his beard as well.

"No. I can see you're very tired and in need of sleep right now," Ailene said. "Stuart and I can take care of our guests while Thorburn takes care of you."

Teárlag rose gracefully and gave a small curtsy. "Thank you, Lady Cameron. I see we understand each other perfectly. I appreciate your small kindness. I do so look forward to finding the comfort of my bed. You see, Thorburn. I knew Ailene would understand. Women know these things. Please escort me to my room." She held out her arm.

"Ailene, Stuart," Thorburn nodded. "Thanks for looking after our guests."

"Teárlag is a special guest of mine, Thorburn," Ailene said. "Please ensure she's well taken care of this evening."

"I shall indeed. Good night." He took Teárlag's arm and led her out, wishing a few of his more honored guests a good evening on his way.

As soon as he was out of sight from any but a few servants, he picked Teárlag up and threw her over his shoulder, a quick gasp of surprise and a tiny squeal from Teárlag the only sounds accompanying the footfall of his boots as he climbed the stairs. He passed a maid going down the hall and seeing Thorburn's glare and his burden, she hugged the wall, nodding to him as he went by, a quick smile quickly hidden by her hand.

Thorburn entered his room and slammed the door behind him. He plucked Teárlag off his shoulder and set her down.

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Lord Cameron. If you could please help me with the buttons on this dress."

"Dress," his big, battle-hardened hands took hold of the fabric and ripped it apart; buttons, lace, sleeves, flying everywhere. "What dress?"

She stood there, suddenly completely naked, standing before a big man who seemed quite angry. He bent down and picked up a big piece of fabric.

"I see only a gag." He stuffed it in her mouth, wadding it as he went, until her mouth full. He pulled her after him as he went to the bed, sat down and pulled her over his knees. He put his right leg over hers, trapping them between his own. Catching her two wrists in one massive hand, he stretched her arms over her head. He stared down at her small, bare bottom, the fringe of downy red hair around her sex. He laid his right hand on the soft flesh and then it was gone and Teárlag knew what happened next. His hand came down with a resounding 'crack', her buttocks bouncing deliciously as she thrashed about, her bottom suddenly burning like fire. She thrashed around, trying to get loose, but he ignored her efforts completely, remaining locked within his grasp.

"That was dragging me out of a party I was hosting."

"This one," and another blow came down on the other cheek, "is for being impudent."

"This," his hand came down again, "is for attempting to suck my cock at my brother's wedding feast."

"For your impatience." Her flesh bounced again.

"Your seizing my cock under the table." Another crack.

"Giving me an erection while I'm at dinner." Boom.

Her struggles amounted to nothing compared to his strength and she gave up trying to get away, resigned to her fate. Her ass blazed, each additional smack adding to the inferno.

"For your insatiability." Smack. "Your impertinence." Whack. "Your taunting, teasing, tantalizing, tasteless behavior" Smack, smack, smack, smack.

As much as Teárlag's bottom burned right now, an element of pleasure was insinuating itself in her body, little reverberations echoing the vibrations of her bottom congregating in the pit of her stomach, swelling the tips of her nipples, thrumming in her cunt, now leaking her fluid down her legs. The cries and protestations smothered in the gag in her mouth turned to moans, equally stifled. A dozen more blows fell on her ass and she was rubbing her thighs together, thrusting her bottom up to meet his hand, her pussy flowering as her passion did.

The blows stopped raining down and he ran that selfsame hand over her tormented flesh, kneading and soothing before plunging a thick finger in her cunt and she screamed, a muffled sound captured in her gag, her pussy pulsating on his finger as she climaxed. He continued to pump his finger into her, her cum coating it as it sawed back and forth in her sheath, keeping her spasms going, not letting her down. Her screams turned to whimpers as he continued finger fucking her into a foaming froth. Releasing her, he pushed her to the floor.

Pulling the gag from her mouth, he ordered "Now, finish what you started," pulling up his kilt, revealing a cock as angry looking as he was; hard and red, pre-cum oozing from the tip. She licked her lips.

"Yes, Lord," Teárlag said, staring up at him.

Her lips parted and her mouth engulfed him, sucking him to the back of her throat; her tongue swirling and twirling, twisting and dancing over the taut flesh. Thorburn groaned, heavy with need. Her left hand held his shaft as her head bobbed up and down the stalk. Her right hand cupped his sack and gently fondled the egg shaped organs within. She felt them begin to draw up, his hands came down on her head and he thrust hard into her mouth, his cock throbbing in her hand, the head swelling and her mouth was awash in his seed. Pulsating jets of his cum threatening to drown her as his prick was so deep in her throat she could scarce swallow, yet she continued to suck and tug upon his shaft, seeking more of the salty stuff.

Even as his cock began to shrink, she stroked and licked his organ, much as he had finger fucked her, refusing to let his passion ebb until he was forced to push her away, his cock still half hard.

"Fuck me, Lord Cameron!" She said, still on her knees on the floor. "Fuck me, hard."

He picked her up and threw her on the bed, dragging her ass to the edge and plunging his cock deep in her cunt. She sighed at the sensation of being filled to bursting by his mighty staff, pushed to the hilt inside her liquid folds.

The heat of his passion expended in her mouth, Thorburn was able to slam repeatedly into Teárlag's body; his cock coated white from the creamy fluids released by her pleasure. Over and over, a machine, sliding deep in her cunt, ramming against her womb. His hands mauled her breasts, kneading, squeezing, twisting. She climaxed once, twice, a third time; one right after the other, her muscles tired from the near continual contractions. Each orgasm bringing a fresh flood of her cum, a renewed clasping of his cock by her hungry cunt. Thorburn panted with exertion, as if he'd been on the training grounds for hours, but his hips continued to pump, his cock to churn, plunging far into her welcoming embrace. Finally, he sensed another release near and increased the speed and force of his thrusts. Their flesh slapped together, almost as loud as her tanning had been.

Teárlag's ass still red and tender from his spanking, she felt every thrust as a smidgeon of pain along with the rush of pleasure. She climaxed a fourth time, just before Thorburn slammed a final time into her womb and his cock convulsed as he filled her with his seed; Thorburn shuddering with the force of his release and the resultant easing of tension.

Thorburn backed away, his cock falling from her cunt with a sodden plop, followed by a trail of their cum leaking from her folds and coursing into the crease of her bottom. He stared down at Teárlag, her breasts heaving, surprised by the intensity of their precipitous passion.

"Pray, forgive me for the fierceness of my lust," Thorburn panted.

"Nay, there's nothing to forgive. It's what I wanted; what I needed, my Lord. You are my Lord. I will never recognize another as my master."

"I've never been in such a frenzied state before. You enchant me, woman. I can't get enough of you."

"Nor I, you. We are matched in that way. Every time you leave my body, I feel such emptiness inside, like a part of me is missing. I want you all the time; in every way."

"I'm drained, Teárlag. I don't think I could take a piss now. You've taken every drop of moisture from my body."

She took his hand and rubbed it, pulling him downward, saying, "Lay beside me, Lord Cameron. Hold me, comfort me, visit me in my dreams."

He removed his kilt, shirt, boots and stockings, baring himself to her sultry gaze. He climbed into bed with her and spooned behind her, enveloping her with his body.

"Will you miss me while I'm gone, Thorburn? Even a little?"

"I'll miss you a great deal, Teárlag. Fortunately, it will give me some time to recover from your visit. I've not expended myself this way for years, if ever."

"If I took all the pleasure I've ever received as a woman before you and added it together, it would not match what I've received since I met you. Never have I felt so much a woman."

"Sleep now, little one. With a wee bit of rest, mayhap I can show you some more before you leave."

Teárlag curled against his hard body. She wanted to feel satisfied, to find restful sleep in his arms. But visions of a life with Blackthorne, cold and passionless and painful, and the anger and betrayal Thorburn would feel when he learned of her perfidy kept her from sleep for a long time. She finally dropped into a fitful sleep plagued by formless nightmares during which she stirred uneasily in his arms.

Thorburn woke early, disturbed again by Teárlag's uneasy restlessness. Several times he'd awaken to find her twitching restlessly, soft exhalations of "no, no, no" tumbling from her lips. It was clear she was having nightmares and he wondered what bogeyman so beset her dreams. Each time, he lightly stroked her hair, holding her close, whispering, "you're safe, darling. No one can harm you while you're in my arms" until she stilled again in fitful slumber. It seemed clear he wouldn't sleep again. He thought of getting up again, but found himself strangely satisfied to hold her naked form in his arms, feeling her breathe. For an hour she was somewhat restful, sleeping peacefully, but began to stir, still troubled by her nightmares.

Since she was clearly upset by her dreams, perhaps a new day and more coupling would be more to her liking. He disentangled himself from her back and slid down in the bed. She stirred as he left her and turned as if to find him. She wouldn't have to worry about finding him, he'd find her. Taking advantage of her new position, he slowly parted her legs to give himself access to her sex, still musky from their coupling the previous evening. His tongue darted out and took a long, slow lick of her slit. She shivered and her legs parted more of their own accord and he gave another swipe of his slick muscle up her folds. He gently nuzzled her soft flesh, licking, kissing, stroking.

"Mmmm, what a way to wake up in the morning," Teárlag whispered throatily. She grabbed his head in her hands, tousling his hair, intending to guide him.

Thorburn pulled away, looking up her slim body over the thatch of hair gracing her sex to her green eyes.

"Nay, Lady Mackintosh. Put your hands above your head and grab the bedpost. Spread your legs for me and you're not to move until I give you leave. If you disobey me, I'll tan your backside as I did last night and then tie you to the bed."

"Both of those sound good to me. Perhaps I'll disobey on purpose."

"You'll not regret it if you obey, and save yourself a bit of grief."

"Very well, Lord. Your wish is my command."

She grabbed the bedposts with her hand and spread herself before his burning gaze, his blue eyes flashing as she obeyed him. His mouth went back to her, engaging her core. Thorburn was well skilled in the art of pleasing a woman orally, taking pride in his skill. He teased and tantalized her, soon driving her to a frenzy. His tongue and lips teased at every part of her sex, from nibbling on the delicate folds, to tempting the stiff nubbin peaking from the top of her slit. His fingers soon joined his mouth in beguiling her, stirring her senses. They gently stroked the soft flesh about her sex and anus. She found her hips rocking, trying to capture a finger prodding the opening of her sheath, stroking the flesh guarding her slit. Teárlag found herself gasping as he brought her closer and closer to her peak. Just when she thought she'd explode, he stopped. She started to reach down to pull him against her and he growled, "Hands," and she gripped the bedpost again.

"Lord Cameron, please let me spend. I'm so close. Don't taunt me."

"Your pleasure belongs to me this morning, Teárlag. I shall determine when you climax."

His fingers lay loosely on her folds, now moist and parting as her body prepared to be entered. They moved, not to give her release, but to keep her from descending too far from her peak. When he judged her orgasm ebbed, he commenced licking her again. Her hands started going down to her breasts and with a sharp slap, he reminded her to put her hands back. She was squirming uncontrollably, her hips rolling up in an effort to apply more pressure, but without her legs to gain purchase, he controlled the length, strength and duration of each lick. Thankfully, she soon reached the cusp of her release, just a bit more and her orgasm would consume her. Thorburn noticed the same thing and ceased again, causing Teárlag to moan in anguish.

"Thorburn, why do you torture me so? Please, I need to orgasm. You're driving me mad."

"Perhaps you enjoyed your spanking too much last night. What good is a punishment if it does not punish. I think this one will be far more effective with you."

He waited for the signs of her pending climax to wane before starting again. Her cunt leaked copious fluid and her hole gapped, looking for something to fill it. She groaned in frustration, the tension building up in her body crying to be liberated. The slow climb to another peak, the cessation of arousal, the slow ebbing, followed by another bout of tantalizing but incomplete pleasure.

After the sixth time near climax, Teárlag panted, "Fuck me, Thorburn. Have me and get it over with. I can't take anymore."

"Aye, you can, and you will."

She was crying as she approached her crest the seventh time. Her nipples were hard little stones perched on the aching softness of her breasts, her legs quivered from unrelieved tension, her sex a soggy pudding. She was resigned to Thorburn thwarting her climax as she felt another one approach. So ready to accept another false alarm, she didn't notice Thorburn spreading her fluids around. She felt the throbbing, trembling, tremors preceding another orgasm, then Thorburn shoved fingers in her pussy and ass, while he furiously sucked her clit and she shattered into a thousand pieces, her scream of satisfied gratification resounding throughout the Keep.