The Lairds Leman

This story is set in 1567 in Scotland. Duncan MacRae has received a piece of booty from a raid of a neighboring clan. The unwilling Aileanna McDonell has become Duncan's Leman by his demand alone. There is much more to this story, this is only a scene I chose to write. **Historical Romance**

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...The men grabbed Duncan roughly by the arms and drug him to his feet. Pain shot through his back and legs and he subdued a cry of rage and agony, refusing to give the English brutes the privilege of knowing his state of torture. They drug Duncan across the rough floor, jagged edges to stone biting at him. They tossed him to the floor of his darkened cell. He grunted as his knees hit the hard, bloodstained, mucked floor. Then they grabbed his right arm and stretched it out and put his hand palm down upon the bloodstained block. Duncan watched as the flickering light from the doorway caught the rock that was lifted high above his head. He tried to pull back, but two men held him, and the stone came down with a vengeance...

Duncan sat up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. His own screams rang in his ears from the memory. Sharp searing pain throbbed in his hand and up his arm. He looked down at the ruined hand. He couldn't see it through the blankets, but he knew its state. He had seen it in the light enough to know that it was a mangled mess. Every bone had been broken; and since then, he relived the memory in his dreams. It had been years. The hand had healed, but had healed wrongly. The bone repaired itself, un-set and crooked, at odd bent, unnatural angles. He had tried to set it himself back in the Tower, but the pain had driven him to retching or passing out each time. He shuddered at the memory of that encasing darkness and stretched out on the bed and looked up at the drapes that surrounded it. Duncan was back in his beloved Scotland. The English no longer had possession of him, only by the grace of their savage Queen's bidding. He had been allowed free and to go home only weeks ago after thirteen years in that damnable Tower.

The lass laying to him shifted lazily in her sleep and she nestled against him. With a deep breath Duncan forced himself to relax, trying to clear his head of the visions the thought of the Tower invoked in him. The dreams always unsettled him terribly though they haunted him most every night.

Suddenly the vision of the lass in his bed filtered through the haze of painful memory to lighten his heart and distract him. A light smile flecked across his lips and he layed down again and rolled to his side to look at the lovely girl's face. She had been so hot for him the night before, despite her unwillingness to share his bed. She had been a vessel to allow him to relax and forget for awhile. ...Until she had balked at the sight of his hand. She had nearly drawn away from him when she had pulled the gauntlet off. He had argued with her about it for that very reason. How could a man with such a crippled up appendage be able to coax a woman to her heights of ecstasy when he could hardly control the movements it made? He had known the thoughts going through her mind. He had seen it all flash in her gorgeous eyes that were the color of his beloved ocean that crashed against the rocky cliffs of the hold. How could only part of a man be able to rut in to a woman for sons? Pain and hurt had seared through his heart. It was that very reason he was so self-conscious about his hand and kept it hidden away and covered.

Duncan had worked past that. She had been his. He had rutted with her and she had begged him for more, regardless if she truly wanted it or not. She had obeyed his every whim when he had broken through that cold barrier in her. He had wanted a woman and he had taken her. It was rather thrilling to take the woman against her well. She had screamed and beat at him when he claimed her and broke the woman head in her. She had been virgin until last eve, and she had not been taken gently. She had fought until he had driven the pleasure in her to take over her. She had worked for him then instead of against him. She had desired to please him and she had.

Aileanna McDonell lay in Duncan's bed. She was a prize of a raid on the McDonell clan. She had been made the Laird MacRae's leman. She was nothing but a toy and a slave to the man now. She had put up quite a fight when the brute Duncan had taken her to his bed, but she had given in eventually. She moaned softly as she began to wake from her restful sleep; damn the man for wearing her out so badly. Her tongue absently slipped out to wet her dry, swollen lips from his kisses the eve before. He had lain claim to her in the only way a man should a woman. Between her legs she ached from use. Her eyes opened and she gasped softly as she shifted, finding herself damp. She looked to the large man beside her and scooted from him lest he wake to find her needing him again. She moaned softly at the thought of the large man atop her again, claiming her as he had the night before. She couldn't allow that to happen again. But she was his leman. What choice did she have? He had claimed her. She was his.

Duncan grinned as he felt the girl slide away from him and he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer. Ailenna gasped and tried to fight the man's grasp but he held her still firmly. Soon enough he had her on her back and pushed firmly against the blankets of the bed. "And where do ye think you're goin' lassie?" The man's voice alone sent tremors up her spine. Her scent reached her own senses. The Gods only knew what it was doing to the man above her. Duncan was hard. She could feel his turgid cock laying against her belly. She shuddered again and tried to slip from his grasp and failed miserably.

It was then that their lips met. All of her worries and fears suddenly vanished. The man who held her was her only focus. Though they both fought with their own internal demons, they were able to relate in this one place. Pleasure could be wrought for the both of them if they put any effort forth at all with one another. That is what she wanted for him. She knew he hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to take that pain from him. If laying beneath him as his whore was what was required to allow him to relax for only a few brief moments and forget whatever was going on in his male mind, that is what she would do.

Again she felt the thick member slide up into her slick sex and his low guttural moan steep from his throat. He shuddered atop her, holding her as he drove his shaft up inside her to impale her. Aileanna's back rose from the bed and her hips arched upward. It didn't hurt this time as it had the eve before. No... instead of the pain there were only rolling waves of pleasure to drive her higher and hotter.

Duncan had no idea what he was doing, he just knew the man in him needed the woman beneath him, so he would take her. His whole body shuddered in need and he drove harder into the welcoming lass beneath him. The more she moaned and whimpered, the more it drove him to take her. His hands stoked the fire in her to a burning rampage, making her quake as she struggled to please him with her body. Duncan grinned at the thought. He would make a slut out of his leman in time, and it seemed it wouldn't take much work at all.

Aileanna's nails scraped across Duncan's chest and back, feeling him shudder and quake atop her. His cock throbbed and swelled and her hips rose to meet his every thrust. Both were breathing hard and damp with sweat. Her body ached, but he was impossible to ignore. He brought the fire out in her that she never knew she had. All too soon she was quaking with release, crying out her pleasure as he continued to rut in to her.

The woman's release only seemed to draw the beast out in Duncan. He gripped her and drove himself harder and deeper inside of her. Her screams only drove him harder. It wasn't long until he was quaking in his own release, his seed spilling forth to fill the girl. Again Duncan rolled off of her and lay on his back. Aileanna curled against him, her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. Duncan fell asleep again with a smile on his face, his sleep peaceful and at rest.