A Proper Scottish Wife Ch. 26

This chapter contains oral and anal sex and degrading and humiliating acts by a cruel and depraved man. Teárlag wishes never to have entered into her agreement with Blackthorne and wishes to end it.

*

Teárlag delayed her departure from Tobermory as long as possible before finally getting in her carriage and heading back to Dervaig. She had no idea what Blackthorne's response would be to the Cameron's request she stay at the Keep, except she was sure it would be painful, no matter the answer. She prayed he would grant the request as it might bring her respite from her weekly meetings, but it was all up to him. Even now, she imagined her breasts and pussy throbbing as a painful reminders of her last visit. At least she could wear her clothing. It had taken all the strength she possessed to pull up the top of her dress before reaching the outskirts of Tobermory two days ago, her breasts still raw from the little whip.

The closer she got to the ruins of Achnadrish, the more she paid attention to her surroundings, still hoping to add more to her diagram she'd provided Thorburn. Her memory of the map was fairly consistent with what she saw now. She might be able to add more details about the northeastern approaches to town. She hadn't been able to do more than cower miserably in her carriage when she left. She wondered if her maid would allow herself to be used by Blackthorne again and she'd be forced to lick his prick afterward. Even that scenario was less repulsive to her than another whipping such as she'd undergone. She'd happily lick her maid's asshole to avoid a repeat of her last visit.

Eventually, they arrived. Teárlag dragged herself through the dim tunnel, dreading every step which brought her closer to Blackthorne. She slipped through the hidden door and up the stairs to Blackthorne's study. Knocking twice, she entered. He was seated at his desk. She stripped off her clothes and knelt on the floor waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. He continued to work on whatever he was studying until her knees became sore from kneeling, yet she remained quiet and still because being ignored was preferable to being noticed.

Blackthorne finally finished what he was doing and set down his pen. He looked at Teárlag, kneeling on the carpet.

"Crawl to me, slave."

"Yes, Master."

She crawled across the floor to Blackthorne's chair. He pulled out from under the desk and waited for her to get close. "You may suck my cock now and swallow all of my seed."

"Yes, Master."

Teárlag removed his limp cock from his trousers and started sucking, bringing it to life. As he got harder, he began thrusting into her throat, sliding down that passage. She felt him get harder preparatory to his release and he jammed his hands onto her head and held her forcefully down in his lap until his prick finished pulsing his sperm down her gullet. He waited until she'd cleaned his cock thoroughly before allowing her to replace it in his pants. She sat back and waited for his next order. Blackthorne pulled the bell rope and summoned his butler.

He entered the room. "Yes, my Lord. What do you wish?"

"Phillip, have I ever told you how much I appreciate you service and dedication?"

"No, my Lord."

"Well, I do, Phillip. Your discretion alone is worth every pence I'm paying you. To show my appreciation for your years of dedicated service, this lovely tart kneeling on the floor will happily suck your cock, Phillip. After she's sucked you to completion, she will get you hard again so you may fuck her ass. Have you ever had sex with someone so beautiful as Teárlag here?"

"No, my Lord. She's exquisite."

"I quite agree. I'm even thinking of making her my wife. What do you think of that?"

"I'd say you were extraordinarily fortunate, my Lord, to take a wife so beautiful. Why do you wish me to fuck her if you intend her as your wife, Lord?"

"I feel women are worth very little except to provide children. Other than that, their sole existence is to be a repository for men's cum. I value you and your service far more than I value her. Other than to provide me with children, she has very little use. Therefore, you may not use her cunt because any children she provides should be mine. But I don't mind sharing my good fortune with valued and trusted servants. I expect I should share her frequently with you, Phillip, even after our marriage. Perhaps we can share her this afternoon. While you fuck her tight little ass, I can use her mouth. It's all she's good for, really. Go ahead, Phillip. Make use of this little whore. I will punish her if she does anything less than a perfect job. Go ahead, Teárlag. Suck Phillip's cock."

Once again, Blackthorne was going to humiliate her in front of the servants. Just as she'd been made to suck the maid's muck from Blackthorne's prick, she would now be given to his butler. He'd already seen her naked more times than she could count. If Teárlag was not so scared of Blackthorne, she'd happily have sex with him and scream aloud her pleasure at someone other than Blackthorne fucking her. If she did, what would he do to her? Could she say she was merely trying to be enthusiastic for his butler. He demanded a perfect job or else she'd be punished. Would it not add to her perfection if she were enthusiastic? It would serve him right to fuck his servant better than she would ever fuck him, but she dared not risk it. The memory of her last whipping was still etched in her mind.

She crawled to Phillip and released his cock from his pants. He was already showing signs of the stimulation he felt from her nudity and his Master telling him he could have her. His cock was a pleasing size which would be perfect for her cunt, but difficult for her ass unless he were gentle. At least he was clean; unlike McTavish. If it weren't for the humiliation and degradation, she could almost enjoy it. She parted her lips and took his cock into her mouth laving it with her tongue as she fondled the hairy sack dangling below. By making Phillip cum in her mouth first, he was certain to last longer in her ass, a fact Blackthorne would relish as part of her degradation.

Teárlag bobbed on his cock and Phillip rapidly grew to his full size, substantially larger than Blackthorne, though not quite as thick as Thorburn. She took him in her throat, absorbing his full length without gagging as she'd been trained. Phillip was enjoying her mouth and he strained to withhold his seed as long as possible to fully enjoy the sensations of her sucking mouth. She wondered if he was married, or had a regular sex partner who would engage in oral sex with him. Was this a new experience or one rarely enjoyed? He was breathing harder and his balls were climbing, getting ready to pump his essence into her throat. His prick swelled and she felt thick, warm spurts of his cum bathing the back of her throat as he pumped her mouth. Even the taste of his cum was better than Blackthorne's; less acrid and salty. If it were under other circumstances, Teárlag could almost enjoy the man. Knowing he was to use her again at Blackthorne's will, she continued to suck and tongue his cock, licking up all his cum and getting him wet enough to penetrate her bottom with minimal pain.

Phillip barely shrunk at all before her continued oral persuasions had him growing again. Blackthorne called her over to his chair.

"Stand, spread your legs and part your ass cheeks so Phillip can use your little fuck hole while you suck my cock."

"Yes, Master."

She stood up, bent over and removed Blackthorne's cock once again. He was hard, aroused at Phillip's use of her mouth and anticipating her anal penetration. She engulfed his shaft and making sure she was balanced, put her hands on both cheeks and spread them for the butler. She heard Phillip step behind her and felt his hands grasp her hips and the head of his cock nudging at the star shaped orifice of her bum.

For just a moment, she lifted off Blackthorne's prick and said, "Be gentle sir. I'm not used to a cock as large as yours." She swallowed Blackthorne's cock again, pleased she'd gotten the minor dig at his manhood in, hoping it would cause Phillip to be more compassionate. Apparently it worked. She felt a gob of his spittle fall in her crack and rubbed around the hole with his prick before he pushed into her fundament. She gasped at the sudden fullness, not quite painful, nor yet comfortable. Phillip slowly eased his cock into her, but gave her time to adjust. As Blackthorne himself had been sucked to completion this morning himself, Teárlag knew she must work to empty his sack a second time, so she resigned herself to remaining in this position for an extended period of time. Hopefully, Phillip would help her to balance by continuing to hold her flanks as he fucked her. Now the butler was deep in her bowels, she could release her cheeks and place her own hands on Blackthorne's legs to help steady herself.

Phillip began pumping his prick up her posterior, going slowly enough she could actually enjoy her ass fucking, though hard enough, with every thrust, her mouth was driven over Blackthorne's knob. For fifteen minutes or more, she endured being spit upon the two shafts, one in her mouth, one snug up her haunches. Blackthorne released first, his foul tasting sperm bubbling up in her mouth and she swallowed quickly to rid herself of it. Phillip's ass fucking continued, almost pleasurable enough she could cum if she let herself, though she did not want to. If she found pleasure in her own humiliation, Blackthorne would have all the more reason to call her slut and whore. She squeezed her buttocks together, trying to generate enough friction to get Phillip off without reaching orgasm herself. Her efforts were rewarded when he slammed against her cheeks and his prick throbbed orgasmically deep in her bum. Teárlag kept her mouth on Blackthorne's cock until Phillip pulled out of her rear.

"This slut will clean your prick before you put it away," Blackthorne said. "No point in soiling a perfectly good pair of pants."

Not if you can soil my mouth instead, you bastard, Teárlag thought. I wish I could shit down your throat and see how you liked it.

Like the frightened, obedient slave she was in Blackthorne's presence, Teárlag knelt down and thoroughly cleaned Phillip's prick before tucking it back in his trousers. At least it's my muck, she thought, and not the maid's.

"That's all, Phillip. You may leave now."

"Yes, Lord." Phillip bowed and left.

Blackthorne left Teárlag kneeling on the floor, studying her like and insect under a magnifying glass. Teárlag wondered if he'd reached a decision about whether she should move into Cameron Keep. He'd said nothing to this point, though she wondered if her use by Phillip was added degradation because he'd decided she should move in with Thorburn and he wanted to remind her who was in control.

"Bend over the settee," he ordered.

"Yes, Master." She'd known better to think she could escape his clutches unscathed. She didn't even bother reminding him she would be seeing Thorburn later. Since he hadn't spoken on the subject, it was totally up to him whether she would or not, though she noted he pulled a wide strap from his bottom drawer rather than one likely to leave marks past today. She gripped the front edge of the settee and gritted her teeth, though she knew she would end up screaming, since he desired it so.

Blackthorne proceeded to give her thirty of the hardest strokes she ever remembered him delivering. She screamed with the first blow, wrenched from her lungs with the brutality of it. He seemed to be using every ounce of his strength, grunting with the effort of inflicting pain on her bottom. It was merciless. She was begging him to stop after five strokes, begging harder than she'd ever begged before. On and on, the strap whistling down as it swished through the air, smacking like a thunderclap on her abused bottom. She was sobbing when he finished, practically breathless, the air beaten out of her. Her hands were white from how hard she'd clenched the wooden edge of the seat, tingling from the blood finally flowing back in.

He left her there, admiring the fiery red of her ass, then taking a seat, holding his hands as if he were praying and resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. He watched her sob for a few minutes, waiting for her to quiet down.

"I've decided to allow you to move into Cameron Keep. Today was a small reminder of what will happen to you if I find you've betrayed me. I will ensure every soldier I have will fuck your mouth, your cunt and your ass before I start in with you. You can't begin to know the torments I've devised for you if I find you false." He paused, giving his words time to sink in. "I suspect you will not be able to report to me on a weekly basis in person, but you will send weekly reports at minimum, through your servants and I insist you report once a month. If you fail to do so, I will assume you've betrayed me and you can expect no mercy if I ever find you outside the Keep walls. No matter where in the world you try to disappear, my agents will find you and bring you back to me, if I have to spend every penny I own to do so. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Teárlag whispered hoarsely.

"You may let the Cameron's know today you intend to move to the Keep, but you will go to Dervaig tonight and remain there, packing for at least two days. It will take that long before you may show your ass to Thorburn without him realizing I own you. Any deviation from my instructions will be dealt with harshly. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Master."

"You're dismissed. Take your clothing to the dungeon and dress there. While you're dressing, take a good, long look around. Every piece of equipment there will be your future lot in life if you betray me."

Without another word, Blackthorne left the room. Teárlag gathered her things and gingerly went down the stairs, her bottom an aggregation of fire on fire. She looked around at the instruments of torture and all the equipment for confining and tormenting tender flesh and shivered in fear. She'd been afraid before; she was terrified now.

Teárlag had to tell the Camerons she could no longer spy for them. Yet to not move there was impossible now. Blackthorne was expecting her to spy on them. Failure to do so would be dealt with as harshly as betrayal. If she did spy for Blackthorne, she would be betraying her friends, the best people she knew, and the man she loved. Her situation was impossible. Even moving into the Keep, Blackthorne expected her to report to him once a month. Her pain and humiliation would continue indefinitely until Blackthorne had what the wanted, the end of the Camerons, and then she'd be married to him and forced to live a lifetime of misery. The only end she could foresee was death, quick and painless. Maybe Thorburn would take enough pity on her, he would end her life for her. She despaired.

Teárlag dressed, but even the lightness of her under shift was like needles to the skin of her bottom. She carried the dress with her down the tunnel, shivering, yet unable to do more than stumble forward into her life of hell. Why hadn't she run screaming into the night when she first met Blackthorne? Greed. No wonder it was one of the seven deadly sins. She was paying for it now.

Even in the time it took to reach the house at the end of the tunnel, Teárlag couldn't bear the thought of her dress rubbing on the cheeks of her ass. She sighed. What matter if Blackthorne's servants saw her in her shift? He had no compunction of sharing her with the lowliest of them. In all likelihood, they would eventually see her naked at some point. She didn't even care anymore. If she were dead, what would it matter?

She waited until the carriage was outside, then walked out of the house, carrying her heavy dress. Fuck them, fuck them all. Teárlag's maid snickered as she painfully climbed into the carriage and knelt on the floor so she wouldn't have to sit on the seats, a prospect which she found untenable.

"The Camerons have rules about beating their servants," Teárlag said. "I have no such rules. Smile, laugh, or even speak about this again and you will find yourself in worse straights than I am now. You will be lucky to sit down within a week."

"Lord Blackthorne would never allow me to be punished."

"I am to be his primary spy in the Cameron household, privy to even their private meetings. What makes you think he gives a damn about what happens to some lowly servant girl compared to me?"

"Because I..." She stopped, realizing she might be speaking of something private out of turn.

"Because you spy on me?" Teárlag said. "What of it? I've known you were his spy since you started working for me. He wouldn't let anyone do his dirty work without spies to ensure they do as they're told. You probably have spies watching you. For all you know, I'm one of them. You won't learn anything unless I learn it first. Servant girl spies are a farthing apiece. I'm to be affianced to Thorburn Cameron; to worm my way into his heart and into his innermost councils. I'm to seek his bed and pleasure him for every secret he whispers to his bedmate. I doubt Blackthorne gives a fig for anything I do to you as long as I leave you alive to do his bidding. If I were you, I wouldn't test your value to him. You may find yourself a plaything in his dungeon as many other girls before you. Am I clear?"

Her maid was silent, considering her words. Finally, she spoke. "Yes, Mistress."

"We're going to Cameron Keep now. I'm to tell Thorburn I will be moving in. You may help me into my dress before we get there. I don't want to hear another word out of you."

"Yes, Mistress."

Teárlag lay down on her side on the seat, crying silently, her back to her maid, and waited for them to approach Cameron Keep.

******

After sleeping for about sixteen hours, Stuart got up, still groggy. He didn't realize Ailene was just going to sleep for the first time after her fencing scare. He wouldn't learn it for close to two weeks. He would be both angry and relieved he wasn't told when he finally found out. He found Thorburn had risen before him and was working on the practice field with several of the men. He went into the kitchen for bread and meat before going out to join him. Thorburn halted his practice and sent the men off to other tasks.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Bout time you got up."

"How can you be up and so cheery? You didn't get any more sleep on our expedition than I did."

"I didn't waste a couple hours tupplng my wife when I should be sleeping before I left. Plus, if I sleep as much as I think I should, I always wake up feeling I still need more. I find it best to get an hour more than my normal sleep and try not to make up all the hours I missed at once."

"I'm dragging. If I tried sword practice now, I'd be black and blue in no time. If I tried my bow, the livestock might be in danger from errant arrows."

Thorburn laughed. "Try running around and get the blood flowing, maybe have some tea. You'll wake up eventually."

"Have we heard from anyone while I was asleep?"

"Nay. All's quiet. Found another spy in the woods. He's dead."

"Why even bother with spies on the outside, since it's likely he's got them on the inside?"

"You can never have too much information," Thorburn replied.

"Maybe we can pick them off one at a time until they're all gone," Stuart mused.

"He can hire more faster than we get rid of them," Thorburn said. "He's got the wealth of Croesus."

"I feel we're just waiting for something to happen. I hate it. I hate that Ailene has to train to defend herself, that she has to be gone to do so, that we have to sneak to Frang's and Isobel's. I hate everything about it. When can we be done with it?"