A Proper Scottish Wife Ch. 11

This is a darker chapter, like Chapter 5, because Calum Blackthorne is not a nice man. It contains instances of anal and oral sex and non-consent or reluctance. While it has no direct incidents of torture or discipline, those things happened in the background and you are aware of it. Be aware if those things are not your cup of tea.

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Teárlag crept through the dark passage, a hand outstretched in front of her, touching the wall. Even with the lit candle in her other hand, the light didn't reach far; the tunnel seeming to absorb light. Similar to the way the tunnel's owner absorbed love and joy with his presence, leaving only despair and hate. It was time for her report to Lord Blackthorne, a day she detested with all the fervor remaining in her soul. At least this time, she had news to report so perhaps he would be less cruel, although she doubted that was possible. She reached the end and fumbled for the hidden latch.

The door swung open, and she stepped into Blackthorne's dungeon, smoky from the few lamps. She heard the female moaning from the cage in which Blackthorne confined her. The poor girl had been here for several weeks now and Teárlag wondered how she was still alive. She dared not look at her, the grotesque and appalling things perpetrated on her too horrible to contemplate. Teárlag could only wonder what she had done to so anger Blackthorne, a severe reminder of what he could do should she stop cooperating.

"Help me," her voice whispered, raw and gravelly, no doubt damaged by the screams wrung from her throat as Blackthorne tortured her.

"I cannot," she whispered back. "It would be worth my life if he found out I helped you. I would take your place in the cage."

"Then kill me," the voice pleaded. "I can't take any more. Send me to my Savior."

"You ask too much of me," Teárlag answered. "I cannot take your life."

"It would be a blessing," she whispered. "I would consider you a Saint if you could find it within your heart to stop my suffering."

"Don't ask it of me. How can I do it without him knowing I've killed you, ending his pleasure? You must end it yourself."

"Suicide is a mortal sin. Even could I locate means, I cannot condemn myself to eternal damnation."

"As is murder."

"You would put down an animal who suffered as I do," the voice whispered. "Am I less deserving of your pity?"

"Please, you cannot ask this of me. I'm late. I must go."

Only a forlorn moan answered her back.

Teárlag continued her journey to hell, climbing the dark stairs to Blackthorne's study. It would be where he waited for her report. With every step, her dread increased, knowing the indignities that awaited her there. She opened the door and looked inside. Blackthorne sat at his desk, writing. He waved her in.

"You're late," he said.

"I'm sorry, Master. It won't happen again."

"I shall make sure it does not."

Teárlag nodded. He continued to write and she removed her clothes, laying them over the couch. When she was naked, she knelt down, waiting for him to finish. He worked on his letter for several minutes, finished, and sealed it closed. When completed, he turned to look at her.

She asked, "Might I ask my Master who the woman is in the dungeon and what she has done to offend my Master?"

He eyed her. "Why do you want to know?"

"She has been here several weeks. If I know what she has done for my Master to torment her so long, I could avoid making the same mistake."

Mollified, he said, "She is a servant girl and I'm trying to extract information from her."

"I would have thought she would have told my Master everything he wanted to know weeks ago."

"Sometimes they are unaware of the information they hold. It helps to approach the same query in different ways to establish the information is truthful, relevant and complete, especially when tortured. They say anything to stop the pain. It is important that the information remains the same every time you ask."

"You still question the information she gives you?"

"Right now I question why a mere servant girl means anything to you?"

"The moans she makes as I come in are distracting and disturbing, Master. I wonder how much longer you need her so I no longer have to listen to her."

"I am undecided. It may interest me to see how long I can make it last without her dying."

"Yes, Master. As you will it."

He considered her questions for a while, studying her. Teárlag remained calm and unflustered by his scrutiny.

"The servants tell me you sent them away two days ago. Why?"

"Laird Cameron called upon me and I sent them away so I could do as you instructed, begin my seduction of him. Servants can't speak of what they don't know."

"And you learned what in the process?"

"The Laird is interested in me. He opened up to me. He told me they have acquired the lands of Abner McTavish, won in a card game," Teárlag said. "The wife, Isobel, also changed hands. She is staying at Cameron Keep, a guest of the Cameron's."

"Damn!" Calum exclaimed. "They should be losing their property, not gaining more themselves."

"If my Master would consider; when he takes their lands, it will only be more for him."

"Quite right, I suppose; more for me. The woman, Isobel, is she a threat for Thorburn's affections?"

"He says not. He believes his younger brother, Frang, is interested in her, but wonders if she will respond to him. McTavish mistreated her and may have ruined her for other men. That is his suspicion although he does not know."

"What else?" He demanded.

"When they travel together, there are always twenty to thirty men at arms with them. I think none travels with any less than six men. Even Thorburn had six men with him when he came to the house in Dervaig."

"Where were they? Did they enter the house?"

"They remained across the street, not right by the house, but nearby. Close enough to hear him call for help."

"The bastard seems well prepared to avoid any ambush. Why have you had nothing of value to report before now?" He asked.

"They do not come to Dervaig often; once a month usually."

"I suppose that means it will be another month before I get anymore of value for my plans?"

"Perhaps not, Master," she replied. "I have been invited to attend a Midsummer's Eve festival at the Keep."

"Mmm," he considered. "Perhaps we can use that. Crawl over her and suck my cock."

She dutifully crawled on her hands and knees until she was beside his chair. He turned facing her and watched as she undid his pants and released his cock. He was semi erect, her servile crawling stimulating his interest. Her mouth enveloped his cock and he leaned back to enjoy the lips and tongue bathing his member in her soft mouth.

"Touch yourself," he ordered.

"Master?" She said after lifting her mouth from his cock.

"Frig yourself," he ordered. "Rub your sex until you cum, but not before I do."

She lowered herself over his prick once more while her own fingers drifted down to her own sex. It would be nice if she was wet, but being around Calum always dried her out, perhaps from fear. Her mouth was dry as well until she was well underway on his cock. She started a slow rubbing of her sex that would result in her release. After her natural lubrication flowed, it became easier.

To compare Calum's cock with Thorburn's mighty prick left her wanting. Calum at his hardest was half the size of Thorburn. She remembered the way it filled her mouth, how difficult it was to engage him fully with her mouth. Thorburn smelled and tasted clean as she laved his cock, whereas Blackthorne was sour and musty. She dreamt of the way Thorburn's cock split her apart when he pushed it into her cunt. How full, how complete a woman she was, having that sword piercing her. Her thoughts of his splendid fucking increased her arousal and she panted, working harder to bring Blackthorne to release before she did.

"I see that my lessons on the proper way to suck a man are finally bearing fruit," Calum said. He groaned as her fervid sucking brought his release closer.

Hah, she thought. If he only knew I dreamed of sucking Thorburn's cock and that was the reason for my increased passion and skill.

She could tell that Blackthorne was getting closer to his climax. His hips lifted off the chair to thrust into her mouth. There was a knock on the door and she began to rise off his cock, but Calum pushed down on her head and wouldn't allow her off his prick.

"Enter" he said.

The door opened and a flood of his cum inundated her mouth and throat as the butler entered. She swallowed rapidly to keep from drowning in his discharge.

"Cum," he ordered and she surrendered to her orgasm as the butler watched her fingers busily working her pussy. Her contractions swept through her body along with her shame at rubbing herself with her Master's cock spurting his fluid in her mouth.

The butler stood calmly, waiting for them to finish. Calum waited for her to clean his rapidly deflating cock before pushing her back and setting himself to order. She sat back on her heels, wiping a few drops of his cum from around her mouth and licking her fingers clean. It wasn't the only time that Calum used her while he was present and likely, wouldn't be the last.

"What is it?" Blackthorne asked.

The butler replied, "There is an Abner McTavish here, Lord. He wishes to speak to you regarding a debt you hold."

"McTavish? Wasn't he the one you said lost his land to the Cameron's?"

"Yes, Master."

"Show him in," Blackthorne said.

"Do you wish me to go to your bedroom," Teárlag asked, "and give you privacy?"

"No, stay here. I wish to compare his story to yours. Stand."

"Master, I'm nude. I may be your future wife. Do you wish outsiders to see me naked?"

"If I hold his debt, he won't speak of this to anyone. Go ahead, stand. You know the position."

Teárlag reluctantly stood with her legs spread, her back straight and her hands behind her head. How typical of Blackthorne that he cared nothing for her modesty or any sense of decorum. She had to wonder how she'd fare as his wife, or even if she would end up as his wife. If this was the respect he showed to his future wife and potential mother of his children, what awaited her when she was fully his. She bemoaned she'd chosen to accept his offer and not walked out the first time he told her to strip.

The butler admitted Abner McTavish and he immediately went to Calum, not even bothering to look around and see her standing there naked. Good, hopefully he'd never look, she thought. The butler left, closing the door behind him.

"Lord Blackthorne, so good of you to receive me."

"What is it you want of me, McTavish?"

"Lord, I know of your enmity with the Cameron clan and I thought I might be of service to you in that regard."

"Of what use are you, McTavish? I understand you've lost both your property and your wife to those cursed Cameron's. How can you help me?"

"I'm to sign over the property on Wednesday. I can leave two or three of my closest retainers there to spy on them for you. They may help, reporting on any of their comings and goings."

"What's in it for you, McTavish?"

"Is it not enough they took my property off me?"

"They didn't take it. You lost it, gambling. From what I understand, you're a lousy gambler. I believe I hold a substantial amount of your debt myself. How much?"

"Over a thousand pounds, Lord," admitted McTavish.

"A thousand pounds! Where the hell did the money go, McTavish?"

"Gambling, Lord Blackthorne," McTavish admitted. "I kept betting on sure things that went bust, mostly cards."

"When playing cards, it's not the cards you should study, it's the players. Gambling at cards is 20% the cards you hold and 80% your understanding of the players who oppose you. What do you really want, McTavish? I'm not about to give you your land back should I take it from the Cameron's. That's gone under any circumstance."

"Perhaps if I or my men are instrumental in your plans, my Lord, you might cancel my debt to you," McTavish fawned.

"Over a thousand pounds of debt. You have an inflated opinion of your worth, McTavish."

"My land alone is worth over three times that, Lord" he pled." Not to mention the value of Cameron's land should you take that. I don't ask for anything if I cannot help your Lordship in his work to destroy the Cameron's. Only should I be instrumental in that goal, in which case you will be vastly richer than the thousand pounds it should cost you."

Blackthorne silently considered the miserable specimen of humanity before him. It was possible that having two or three ready spies on the McTavish property might be useful. It would keep him from having to develop them himself. McTavish himself seemed untrustworthy. If drunk, he'd probably spill what he knew, wasting his value to him.

"I'm disinclined to trust you, McTavish. You don't strike me as one who can keep a secret, especially if in his cups. If I should accept your proposal, you must stop gambling and drinking, unless I tell you otherwise. Will you even be able to do either, I wonder? It seems you can't stop gambling even after you've lost everything, or I wouldn't hold your worthless IOU."

"I can stop, Lord. It will be difficult, I grant, but to have my revenge on the Cameron's and especially that middle son bastard, Frang, I can do it."

"What else can you tell me about Frang?" Blackthorne asked.

"He loves to gamble," McTavish said, "though he's much better at it than me."

"Obviously. What's he gamble on?"

"Cards, horses, dice, any game of chance, Lord."

"Mmm," Blackthorne wondered aloud, "Does that present any opportunities for us? I'll ponder that."

McTavish finally looked around the room and spotted Teárlag. She was standing so still, his eyes moved past her, then did a double take as he turned back to look closer. Teárlag blushed as he wet his lips and studied her.

"What little strumpet is this, Lord Blackthorne?" McTavish asked, walking closer.

"Another spy and possible way to get to the Cameron's," Blackthorne said, watching McTavish ogle Teárlag lewdly.

"Is she available for my services, Lord?"

Why not, thought Blackthorne. A little goodwill to settle their deal. Make sure she didn't get too high and mighty at the thought she would be the next Lady Blackthorne.

"Only her ass or her mouth," he said. "Her cunt belongs to me." Teárlag gasped.

McTavish reached out and squeezed her tits, pressing hard and twisting her nipples. Teárlag was fighting hard to keep her position. Blackthorne had yet to release her.

"It's been a month since Frang took my wife off me," McTavish said, reaching for her cunt to test her wetness. Not that he cared, but it would be interesting to see if the strumpet would cum easily. "Is it okay if I use both?"

"Why not, McTavish. Leave your spies on your property and this will signal our agreement. If you speak about this to anyone, I will have you in debtors prison so fast you'll wonder how you got there. You may be assured, something awful will happen to you there. Provided that she does as I say, I intend to make her my wife."

"And you don't mind me having a go at her?"

"As long as you leave her cunt alone. I'm not raising any of your bastards. No sense in letting her get too full of herself. You may release, Teárlag." She relaxed her position although that didn't stop McTavish from mauling her tits and pussy.

Fucking bastard, Teárlag thought. He's treating his future wife like a whore. Not for the first time today did she regret her deal.

McTavish pushed her down in front of his cock and had her lift his kilt. His cock was standing for her. Nice of Blackthorne to share, Abner thought. Tasty piece of pastry she was.

"You'd better get it nice and wet, your Ladyship, as I intend to push it in your ass."

Teárlag sucked cock for the second time today, and McTavish was even nastier than Blackthorne, though larger in the prick department. Just her luck he wanted to use her ass. Blackthorne often did as well, but his puny prick was easier to abide in her ass. She wondered if she could get him to cum in her mouth and finish with him. If it had been a month, he very well might be capable of both despite his age. Blackthorne turned back to his ledger, uninterested in watching Teárlag service McTavish. He was pleasantly surprised to find her throat opening and taking him all the way in.

"I say, Lord Blackthorne," McTavish said. "Are you sure you didn't pluck her out of a whorehouse? She sucks cock like a professional."

"She wasn't good when she started," Blackthorne said, never looking up from his work. "I insist my sexual partners be able to fully swallow my cock. It took lots of practice and a few whippings before she became that proficient."

Sure that his cock was now wet enough to enter her ass, McTavish bent Teárlag over the back of the sofa like the first time Blackthorne whipped her. He placed his cock at the entrance of her puckered ass and pushed in, sinking to the depth of his cock in one long, steady shove. Teárlag whimpered in pain. He gave her almost no time to become accustomed to his size, before thrusting into her. Back and forth, from the flange of his cockhead until deeply rooted in her bottom, he plunged into her with increasing force. Her cunt was banging into the wooden edge of the sofa as he slammed into her, causing more discomfort.

"Hey, Blackthorne," McTavish said, pummeling her ass, "I know why I hate the Cameron's. Why do you hate them so much?"

Blackthorne stopped what he was doing and turned to watch McTavish as he fucked into Teárlag's well formed buttocks. He got a faraway look in his eye. Teárlag wanted to know too. Why did he hate them with such a burning passion?

"When I was young, there was a shipwreck off the coast. Only a few survived and were brought to Dervaig. Among them was a young Englishwoman, Beatrix. Her family was all dead in the same shipwreck. She was older than me by a few years, though still young and vibrant. I fell in love with her, as did many other lads. So did Jamison Cameron. She was a beauty, you see. When it appeared she was choosing Jamison, a man twice her age; I challenged him to a fight to win her hand. He handily disarmed me, spanked my bottom with the flat of his sword and told me not to play a man's game until I was out of diapers. Everyone laughed, the big man beating the young, green one. Even Beatrix laughed. I swore I would ruin him and his family if I took the rest of my life."

McTavish grunted as he thrust harder and faster, his belly slamming into her ass as he plowed her depths. Teárlag felt that his story explained a lot. He was putting the sins of the father onto the sons. Not that the father had really sinned. Given it was a duel, he'd have been justified in killing Blackthorne, but instead, he'd humiliated him in front of the girl he loved. It was by far the worst offense in Blackthorne's mind. If Beatrix had married him, someone Stuart's age, could have been Blackthorne's son.

"Aye. I could see that," McTavish panted, getting ready to pour out his seed. "Making fun of a man in love in front of the woman he loved. Hard to take."

He gave half dozen more plunges and Teárlag felt his cock swell in her bottom and the sensation of wetness flooding her rectum. She was nowhere near completion herself. Neither McTavish nor Calum much caring whether they satisfied their partner. McTavish gave another couple desultory pushes to expel the last of his cum, then pulled his cock out.

"Go ahead, clean it off," he said, "and keep going until I cum again. I've been without a woman a month and can use the relief.

No wonder, you pig, she thought, though she turned around and obediently cleaned his cock. It was far preferable to the alternative if she didn't obey. Not so much McTavish, but from Blackthorne, who'd given her to him. Blackthorne returned to his accounts, not even acknowledging her kneeling and servicing another man, totally indifferent to either her disgust or her shame. Her oral ministrations soon had McTavish hard again and he used her mouth and throat the same way he'd used her ass; fast and hard. He held her head firmly in his hands so he could fuck her mouth. She opened her throat and became a vessel for his lust. With any luck, he'd finish soon and go.