A Proper Scottish Wife

I apologize for taking so long for another submission to this story. Thanks to all those who are encouraging me to continue this tale. Hopefully the next chapter will be quicker. For those who care about such things, this chapter contains both oral and regular intercourse.

*****

Thorburn and Stuart came down in the morning, still expecting to find Ailene hovering over the poor girl. Instead, the guardsman who found her was standing over her body, a cloak covering her still form. The cook and two assistants were working on breakfast. Thorburn turned back the cloak to look once again upon her ravaged face, remembering it for when he met the person who'd done such a thing to her.

"She died then?" Thorburn asked.

"Aye, about two hours ago, Laird," he replied. "Lady Ailene asked me to stand watch over her body until you woke up to take charge of it."

"Where's my wife now?" Stuart asked.

"She said she was going to the training grounds, my Lord."

"You can seek your rest now, lad. We'll see to the wee lass," Thorburn said. "Thanks for looking after her."

"Aye, Lord Cameron."

Thorburn directed two of the guardsmen showing up for breakfast to carry her body to the chapel. After seeing his orders carried out, Thorburn and Stuart went outside to the training ground. They found Ailene, still dressed in her night clothes, lunging and thrusting again and again against Frang's practice post, a hole about an inch deep already gouged in the wood. They looked at each other, both noticing the bloodied sword hilt from blisters having formed and burst on her hand, and still she kept stabbing the post.

Both of them went to her and put their arms around her, holding her still as she broke into huge, heart wrenching sobs.

"Easy, lass," Thorburn said. "Did she ever regain consciousness before she passed?"

"Aye, she did," Ailene said between huge, gasping sobs. "Twas Màiri, as expected. She said Blackthorne was the one tortured her before she died. I want to kill that bloody monster so much. She told me he bragged of killing your father, Jamison. Poisoning him slowly so it would look like he was ill; put in his evening milk. "

"The cook?" Thorburn asked, his face red with anger.

"Nay, some servant now dead. He left here after he'd done the deed. Blackthorne killed him afterward so he couldn't talk, according to Màiri."

Stuart thought of the people who would have had access to Jamison who were now gone from the Keep.

"The old man who brought him his warm milk at bedtime!" Stuart exclaimed.

"Did she say why Blackthorne tortured her?" Thorburn asked.

"She said he was constantly asking about all of us and the Keep's defenses," Ailene replied.

"Why did she not tell him anything he wanted to know?" Stuart wondered. "She could not tell him anything to help him."

"She did. She told him all she knew. Started making up stuff when he demanded more. She thinks he mostly tortured her because he likes it. Liked to hear her scream, was the way she put it. I want him dead. He's the devil incarnate and he deserves to die," Ailene said. "She said he would do worse to me if he ever got hold of me. He hates us all with a passion, every one of the Cameron's, but apparently the women most of all."

"What have we ever done to him to deserve such enmity, particularly you? You weren't even here when this thing started," Stuart wondered. "That's a hate far deeper than just wanting our land."

"She didn't know. She said she was released yesterday by a woman, one she didn't know. Never met her before finding herself in his dungeon. Thought she might have had red hair but it was hard to tell in the dimness of his dungeon."

"Never have I heard of such brutality," Thorburn opined. "Tis a foul thing for certain. We shall discuss this with the magistrate in Dervaig."

"Should we keep her body to bring with us," Ailene asked, "to show him what a monster Blackthorne is?"

"Though it might be best, I think we need to let her family know. They should decide, and not us," Thorburn replied. "I'll send out a dozen riders right now to inform them. They may wish to take charge of her body. I'll go with to speak to the family."

"Frang and Isobel need to be informed as well," Stuart said, "both because they deserve to know what happened and to stress how careful they must remain given the extent Blackthorne has shown he's willing to go."

"Aye, I'll send another dozen riders his way," Thorburn said.

"Send two dozen," Ailene said. "I intend to go with them, with your permission, Stuart."

"Why?" Stuart asked.

"To complete my training with Frang. I must to ever feel safe again. Unless I can defend myself, I'm at risk if these are the lengths to which he'll go."

"She's right, Stuart," Thorburn said. "All of our women need to become better trained. It appears Blackthorne detests the women more even than us. I would like to see them give a good account of themselves if Blackthorne tries to take them. At the very least, the kidnappers may be forced to slay them rather than capture them. They'd be better off dead than suffering the torments of the damned with him."

"Fuck. I hate to see her leave the Keep. Can't Frang and Isobel both return here for their training. I hate for her to be gone. She's much better protected here."

"Frang has responsibilities to his own people now. I'm not sure he can afford to ignore his own lands for the length of time this may take to be resolved. We can discuss it with him on Market Day."

"We can't be sure if Blackthorne has more spies here. If Jamison could be poisoned, we're all at some risk, husband. You can leave some additional trustworthy men with Frang if you're fearful, though I'm sure Bjarkë will soon have Frang's men well trained. Until Blackthorne's gone, we're all at risk."

"Aye, I suppose you're right. I shall miss you wife. It will be the first time we've been apart." He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb gently over the torn flesh. She flinched but made no sound. "If you're going to go, stop now and put some of your medicine on these. I suggest you wear gloves if you're going to train this hard."

She plastered herself against him, laying her head against his broad chest. "I'll miss you too, Stuart. More than you know."

"Besides, you're still in your night clothes," Stuart said.

Ailene backed from him and looked down. Her robe was loose and her breasts were faintly visible beneath the sweat stained night dress. She pulled the robe tight and sashed it around her waist.

"Tis a good thing I was the only one on the training ground. I look a mess don't I?"

"But never more beautiful to me. Your anger is righteous and your passion profound. I'm glad it's not directed at me." He kissed her.

She left for her room, a quick pat on her bottom a parting shot from Stuart. Ailene made a detour to the kitchen to grab some of the medicines she'd used on Màiri the previous night, and a crust of bread, finding herself famished. A few quick words to the cook about the midday meal, telling her to speak to Muiríol about further cooking arrangements as she would be departing for Lady Luck Farms for an undetermined length of time.

"Is the Lady Isobel having a difficult pregnancy, my Lady?"

"Not to my knowledge. I'm going for a different purpose."

"Yes, my Lady."

As she went to her room, gnawing on the bread, she considered how much they could really share with any of the servants anymore. It seemed that Blackthorne's reach extended even into the Keep, though surely not too far. The Cameron's treated their people much too well for there to be a large contingent of traitors. Surely Muiríol could be trusted and most of the people who'd been here the longest. The more recent additions to the household would need to be treated with suspicion until they'd proven themselves. She decided she would pack mostly riding and fencing clothes, and only a few dresses as she intended to work as hard as she could learning to become better with the blade. To that end, she also brought several pair of leather gloves, her tender hands showing all her efforts thus far had not prepared her for truly rigorous sword handling.

Thorburn directed the Captain of the Guard to get 40 men ready to ride by 9:30. A dozen of which would be going with him to Màiri's family; the remainder going with Stuart and Lady Ailene to Lady Luck. All but five of the best would be returning that day. Those five would be staying at Lady Luck to help ensure the safety of Lady Ailene. Thorburn helped pick out the five by their fighting skills, whether they had family to be cared for, and most importantly, if Thorburn felt they were trustworthy. He tended to choose those who had fought with Bjarkë and he, or those who had been at the Keep for years. Given all three brothers and Bjarkë would be absent from the Keep at the same time, the Captain of the Guard was told that he would remain at the Keep in charge and on high alert until Thorburn returned.

By 9:30, everyone was ready; even the horses were champing at their bits. A dozen men and Thorburn headed for Màiri's family cottage. Stuart, Ailene and 28 others headed in the opposite direction. Both groups left the roads shortly after leaving sight of the Keep. Going by back ways and deer paths, they headed for their different destinations.

******

Isobel awoke the next morning and saw that Frang was staring at her. She looked down, uncomfortable with his frank appraisal.

"You're so beautiful," he said, "one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. It's a shame McTavish treated you the way he did. His loss, my gain." Frang reached out and touched her hair. "I consider myself to be the luckiest man alive."

"My Lord, it's still early. We can sleep a little longer."

"There is something I would prefer much more than sleep. Will you need to tie me down again?"

"If it would please you, Frang, I will secure you again."

"To love you again, I would gladly submit myself to whatever you require," he replied.

Isobel smiled at Frang. She thought about the other knot Cyrus had shown her, the slip bowline. Perhaps she could use that knot and in the midst of their passion, release his arms to see if she could tolerate the loss of control. She could leave his legs in the bowline and if she had a difficult time, get up from the bed, leaving him there at least long enough for her to regain control of her own fears.

"As you wish, my Lord."

Pulling the covers down, she saw his cock hard and ready. He lay there calmly as she fastened the knots to his legs and arms. She considered him, spread eagled before her, his cock bobbing up and down with his pulse. Pondering their respective positions, there must be some way to speed up the process of their mutual arousal. Struck with a sudden thought, she turned herself so her core was over his mouth and her mouth over his erection. She lowered her folds to his mouth while taking his manhood into her mouth. She felt his tongue separate her inner lips and penetrate her sheath even as his cock swelled further in her mouth. Oh, merciful God, it felt so good to have him tonguing her moist center even as she enveloped him between her lips, sucking lightly and feeling him try to thrust upwards. Her weight held him down and once again, she was in control. Free to take him no deeper than she cared to and controlling his manipulation of her by subtle shifts in her position.

His tongue was a marvel as he eagerly lapped her folds and she felt her excitement grow, a powerful pressure building little by little as his tongue caressed her. By shifting downward, she redirected his attention to her nubbin, peeking from the protective flesh as her pleasure grew. He suckled the tiny bud and she exploded as she felt his teeth gently tug on it as his tongue swirled around the tip. Isobel felt she must be swamping his mouth and chin with her fluids as her cunt convulsed in spasmodic pulses of pure pleasure. Her mouth opened more as she suppressed a scream and she felt his cock invade her more deeply as she hugged him to her in her throes of ecstasy. She sucked hard, grateful for the gratification of her aroused body, expecting to feel him flood her mouth, but he withheld his release with great effort, wanting to surrender his seed in her womb instead.

When her quivering ceased, he asked her to mount him. Turning to face him, she directed his cock to the gates of her molten core, feeling herself spreading over the soft steel of him. She slowly sank on his shaft and she easily and eagerly accepted the full length of him in her slick sheath. How could something so disgusting and painful with another feel so heavenly and delightful with him? She found a rhythm to her liking and slowly rose and fell on his cock, the sensations so pleasing she felt herself building towards another release.

Frang panted and moaned as she stroked his turgid prick in her liquid warmth.

"Have you ever done anything like that before, where you suckled my cock as I licked you?" He asked between moans.

"Nay, my Lord husband," she answered him, rocking slowly on his pinioned body, her own breath coming in quick pants.

"What possessed you to do so?" Frang asked.

"It seemed a logical extension of giving one another oral pleasure. One could give and receive at the same time. Why? Have you never done it before."

"Aye, I've done it. Twas usually at my instigation, most lasses not realizing the benefits of the practice unless they'd done it before. The French call it soixante-neuf."

"What does that mean?"

"Sixty-nine, in English."

"Why would they call it a number?" Isobel asked, rolling her hips in response to her rising pleasure.

"I think it because of the similarity of appearance to a six and nine if both turned on their side atop one another."

Isobel imagined it and indeed, the similarity would be striking. She laughed.

"I see it. How clever."

Her pussy was a sodden mess now, her fluids freely flowing in response to the enjoyable penetration of her body as she sensed another peak approaching. She lowered her torso so Frang could suckle the nipples on her dangling breasts. He happily latched onto one of tumescent buds and increased her excitement two fold as he stimulated another of her pleasure centers. His lips and tongue danced to the other and she shattered in a thousand pieces as her orgasm cascaded through her body. She had just enough presence of mind to tug the dangling lines of his knots and release his hands before closing her eyes as waves of ecstasy rolled throughout her body.

Realizing his hands were free, Frang propped his upper body with one hand to provide enough leverage to drive his hips upward into his wife's spasming cunt, while his other hand went for the breast and nipple his mouth left free. A dozen more thrusts were all Frang could do before he himself succumbed to a frantic, pumping climax, his cum shooting in great gouts of creamy streams into her clasping slit. Frang's rapid thrusts and enjoyable kneading and oral stimulation of her breasts extended Isobel's own climax and when she felt his cock spurting his seed inside of her, it incited another smaller orgasm atop the first.

When Isobel had milked the last of his cum from his balls, he fell back to the bed, pulling her with him, covering her lips and face in passionate kisses, one hand stroking her back and bottom until the last of their trembling release had passed away.

"You released me," Frang said, his cock finally shrinking and withdrawing from her sex slickened cunt.

"I had to try," Isobel responded, breathing heavily. "I had to know if I could. I do not wish to restrain you for the rest of our lives in order to have sex, my husband. I thought it might be easier to release you while at the peak of our pleasure than try without any bonds at all."

"Did it meet your expectations, my Love? Will you require me to be confined the next time we couple?"

"It exceeded them in some ways, Frang, although I still feel some trepidation in leaving you totally unconfined, though I would be willing to try the next time we mate."

"How about right now?" Frang asked.

"You can become hard again so soon?" Isobel asked. "You've released several times in the last twenty-four hours."

"I'm still a young man. I'm quite capable of recovering quickly."

"I would be willing to try. What would you like me to do?" Isobel asked.

"Lie down and relax. I will please you. May I release my legs?"

"I'll do it."

Isobel went to the foot of the bed and released the knots about Frang's ankles. Frang made no sudden moves once released, allowing Isobel time to become accustomed to his freed state. He remained calmly in bed, waiting for Isobel to return. She timidly climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over her breasts.

"What would you do, my Lord?" Isobel asked.

"May I put my head between your legs and pleasure you, my Love?"

"After you deposited your seed in me? Are you certain, Frang?"

"Do you not take my seed in your own mouth, Isobel?"

"Aye, well is it not expected of a wife she do so? McTavish expected it often. I hated it."

"You've done it for me, my Love. Was it hateful?"

"It was not so bad. Your restraint allowed me to control the depth of your penetration, and you're clean and sweet smelling. Your seed is salty, but not distasteful. It was not unpleasant. I might even learn to like it."

"Well, if I welcome you swallowing my seed, would it not be uncivil of me to ask something of you which I myself will not taste?"

Isobel thought about that.

"No one else has ever thought to do so, Frang. To be honest, no man has ever given me oral pleasure, so I explore all new territory at this moment. And you don't mind doing it while your seed leaks from me?"

He smiled at her. "There may be nothing I mind where you are concerned, Love. And to be honest, at this point, it would be mixed with your own sweet nectar, which gives me the advantage as far as I'm concerned."

Isobel reached out and touched his cheek, stroking it. "Aye, if you don't mind, I would enjoy the pleasure you grant me with your mouth."

Frang encouraged her to lie back and spread her legs for him. He kissed his way up her legs, teasing and taunting with his tongue as he went. Nibbling with wee nips upon the tender flesh of her inner thigh followed by tantalizing licks. He smelled her arousal, both past, now drying, and present, fresh beads of her essence gathering at the wellspring of her sex. It pleased him to hear her quick intakes of breath, to see her legs stretch wider and her toes curl the closer he drew to her core. She gasped when she felt his tongue stabbing at her moist folds and penetrate her sheath, wriggling about in the most beguiling manner. Her hands grasped his hair and pulled him against her, encouraging him to taste more and more of her moist slit.

She tugged him up so he could caress her clit, hard and demanding, peeking from it's protective cradle. She gasped as he licked the fleshy nubbin, so exquisite the sensations her created.

"My God!" Isobel said. "Why has no one ever done this to me before you?"

Her legs drew up and opened wide to give Frang full access to every fold, every nerve ending, every particle of her sex. Frang took advantage of every square inch she exposed, using every part of his mouth to pleasure her, even his breath. Since his hands were free, he stroked upward over her mound, the soft flesh of her stomach, holding the child they would soon share, up to her breasts where he fondled the blood engorged nipples. Her panting grew more pronounced, her moans longer and deeper. Sensing her impending release, Frang thrust two fingers into her sheath and curling them up, scraped the rough spot on her upper wall and her legs snapped shut around his head like a trap. He felt her cunt clasping his fingers in rhythmic pulses as her hips thrust against his mouth, as though attempting to shove his whole head inside her. Rapid "Oh, oh, oh's" spilled forth from her lips, even as fresh waves of her orgasmic fluids drenched his fingers. Frang continued his assault on her senses, maintaining her peak as long as he was able, but gradually easing off as her contractions slowed.