The Lady Doth Protest Too Much

NOTES

Time: Around 1730

Place: The West Coast of Scotland. Loch Fyne is a sea-loch which eventually leads out to the Irish Sea.

Two boats softly crunched onto the stony beach and instantly a dozen men, each armed with a sword and dagger jumped over the gunwale. They splashed ashore and pulled the boats a little further out of the water. Two men remained guarding them whilst the other ten headed for the small town nestling at the head of Loch Fyne.

The good townspeople were all rudely awakened when Donald Mclachlan and his friends invaded the house of William Thomson. His two daughters were asleep and also a friend, Catherine McArthur. Aged nineteen, she was endowed with gleaming black hair, a flawless complexion, trim figure and a warm smile that lit up a room. In short, she was highly desirable to any number of virile young men and had several of them bending to her every whim. That situation was about to change.

The trouble began after everybody, except the maid, was in bed and the house shut up for the night. Lillias Thomson and her sister, Margaret, were in the same bed as Catherine McArthur when a man appeared at the window.

"Will you let me in?"

The three young women made no answer, but extinguished the light. There was a knock on the window.

"Open up, I say."

Lillias went to the window. "Is that you, Donald McLachlan?"

"Aye. Will you not let me in? I want to speak to your father."

The girls suddenly became aware of whispering and small noises all around the outside of the house. McLachlan knocked again on the window.

"Go away!" exclaimed Margaret. "It's too late and we're all abed."

"You should no come in," urged Catherine McArthur. "There's no business you have to do here this night."

A loud banging at both back and front doors startled the girls and Margaret jumped out of bed.

"We'd best go to father's room."

Catherine smiled. "You dread what you need not."

A violent and loud crash indicated the back door was in imminent danger of giving way. Both Lillias and Margaret pulled Catherine out of bed and dragged her into their parents' room where they jumped into bed. McLachlan then appeared at the window of that room and once more demanded admittance.

"I have something to say to you, Mr. Thomson."

"It's too late, man," came the response. "Come back in the morning as early as you please."

"I'm here now and here I'll stay."

"Go away before you get into real trouble. I'll be complaining to the provost if you persist in trying to enter."

At this point the back door finally gave way with the tortuous sound of splintering wood. Several men burst into the house. Almost at the same time the front door yielded, admitting more men, including Donald McLachlan. Lillias pulled the covers tightly round her.

"Is it to murder honest people in their beds you have come, Donald?" she cried.

"No, have no fear, I'll not do you harm." He turned to one of his friends. "Draw your sword, Duncan, and let no one enter."

"Aye, Donald."

McLachlan grabbed hold of Catherine and tried to pull her out of bed, but she determinedly clung to Mrs Thomson.

"Oh Lord, Donald Mclachlan, I'll never marry you," Catherine cried out bitterly.

A brief tug of war ensued, with the unfortunate girl as the rope, but she soon lost her grip on Mrs Thomson.

"Sandy here she is."

Catherine suddenly found herself, nearly naked - she was wearing a shirt and smock-petticoat at the time, but she felt nearly naked - and completely without protection in the middle of a group of men. She was hustled out of the house and into the darkness of the night, her constant cries ignored by her abductors. They half-dragged, half-carried her down to the small boats drawn up on the shore and thrust her into one. She was crying all the time. Once everybody was aboard the boats were rowed out to a larger vessel which lay further out in the loch.

Keeping a firm grip on her arm, Donald bundled his captive into a small cabin and pushed her down onto a bench.

"What are you going to do to me?" asked Catherine, through her tears.

"Throw you to the fishes if you don't stop your greeting," snarled Donald. He began to rummage through some lockers.

Catherine knew what they were going to do. She could see it all quite clearly. One by one these brutes would come into the cabin and take their pleasure with her. He would be the first - Donald McLachlan. He was probably looking for some rope this very minute. He would bind her hands, then tear off her pitiful covering - she instinctively pulled her shirt close about her breasts - spread her legs and enter her with his fierce weapon.

Once he had satiated his lust the others would take their turn....

No.

They would all be in the cabin at the same time. She would become the plaything of a dozen huge men. Even now she could feel her breasts being pawed and mauled by two men, whilst a third had forced her to put his...his...thing...into her mouth. Yet another was pumping away between her legs. She was a virgin; at least, she had been a virgin until Donald McLachlan had despoiled her. Now she was a slut. As she was being abused by the four men she could see the others watching and waiting their turn, each stroking their enormous erections.

Dear God, how could she possibly...?

"Here you are."

"What?"

Catherine was suddenly brought out of her fantasy. She looked up to find her brute of a captor holding out some clothes.

"Put these on. You'll catch your death in your night wear." He left the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Clothes? He wants me to get dressed? But that's not what I imagined. He was supposed to ravish me. But he's left me to get dressed. They were ALL supposed to ravish me. What's the point of being abducted if they don't intend to have their lustful way with me in every conceivable way they can?

"Och, Donald," she said aloud. "What kind of a man are you?"

She removed her shirt and smock-petticoat and stood naked in the cabin for a few moments. Perhaps he would come back, see her and be unable to resist her undoubted charms. Catherine had no sense of false modesty. She knew she was attractive. Otherwise why would she have so many suitors knocking at her father's door?

Donald McLachlan had been one of them.

"I want your consent to marry Catherine."

McArthur looked startled. "Marry her? I didna know the pair of you were even acquainted."

"Aye, we've had several meetings at the house of Alexander McDugald, the ferrier."

The father's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Meetings?"

"Aye. Dinna worry, mon. Nothing happened between us to violate her honour. The last time we met I asked her to marry me."

"And what did she reply?"

"That she'd be guided by you."

"Did she? Well, I willna have it."

Donald frowned at the unexpected reply. "Why not, Mr. McArthur? I'll make a fine husband for Catherine."

"Fine, is it? And how, may I ask, will you support my daughter?"

"I have money. A good income."

"Aye, that you have, I dinna doubt, but your method of earning it canna be recommended."

Donald shrugged. "I run cattle across the border, Mr. McArthur. It's well known."

"Aye, and it's well known you're a reiver, a thief, a scoundrel. Two years ago a proclamation for your apprehension was posted at the Mercat Cross."

"Aye, and it's two years later and I'm still at large. Everybody knows who I am and where I live. Nobody attempts to molest or capture me. I perform a service, Mr. McArthur, that's all. My business is transferring some funds from the rich to the poor. There's many a crofter who thanks me."

"But the law is no respecter of your fine philosophy. One day they'll catch you and then you'll be for hanging. I don't want my daughter to be made a young widow. Therefore, my answer to your request must be no. I'll not hear another word on the subject."

The result of that conversation was that one dark April night the young woman was seized from her bed and put onto a ship bound for.....

"Where are we going?" Catherine wondered.

After some little time she felt the motion of the boat increase as it left the sheltered waters of the loch. She looked through a small window. It was daylight now and she could see the coast off the starboard bow. Even as she watched it began to slip away astern until she lost sight of it. All that was within the periphery of her vision was water, cold and grey.

*****

Nobody bothered Catherine for the next two days, though food was brought to her regularly, along with soap and water for her toiletry. The clothes provided for her were surprisingly neat and clean. The dress, with a low-fitting bodice in the style of the day, revealing the curve of her breasts, had a silvery sheen and was trimmed with pretty lace. It was an excellent fit. She detected a woman's hand in the choosing of the garments.

It took three days to reach their destination; two days shut up in the small cabin. It was a long two days.

Finally the boat reached another shore and Catherine was quickly hustled off and towards a little village that looked much others in the West of Scotland. Only, as she soon discovered, they were no longer in Scotland.

"We're in Ireland," Donald informed her. "County Antrim."

She was being dragged along a path towards the village. All the men off the boat were following.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

"First, to the church."

"No!" she screamed.

"And then to bed."

"Let me go!"

"We'll make it nice and legal."

"Father forbade the marriage."

"He's not here."

He had a firm grip on her arm and no matter how much she struggled she was unable to get away. Several people stopped and looked at the strange party.

"Help me, please!" Catherine shouted.

Nobody tried. A dozen armed Scotsmen were enough to deter a few peasant Irishmen. Anyway, it looked like a lot of fun. The villagers joined in the procession towards the church.

Catherine was dragged into church, the armed guard behind her, and marched up to the altar, where a terrified clergyman waited. A hastily made crown of flowers was produced from somewhere and placed on the bride's head.

"Get on with it," Donald commanded.

The clergyman looked at his prayer book. "Dearly be..." Nervousness made his voice strangled. He coughed and started again.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God..."

"You can skip that part."

"Oh. Oh, dear." The clergyman became flustered. He scanned the page trying to find the next part. "I require and charge you both as ye shall answer..."

"Move on to the vows, mon."

"But, this is about any impediment. I don't think..." The clergyman began to protest, but the partial drawing of a sword behind the bride and groom was sufficient to silence him. He studied the prayer book once more.

"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together..."

"Aye."

"Yes...er...right." The clergyman looked at the bride, who was still squirming in the groom's tight grip. "Wilt thou have this man..."

"Aye, she will," growled Donald.

"Please, sir, she must answer for herself."

The two men confronted each other briefly, the clergyman finally plucking up courage for defiance.

Donald backed down. "Answer," he ordered Catherine.

She looked daggers at him. "I..." The pressure on her arm increased. "...will," she gasped.

"Have you a ring?"

"Aye, that I have." Donald looked at his best man. "Charlie. The ring."

"Oh, aye."

A ring was produced from a sporran hanging in front of the kilt. It was a remarkably beautiful ring. It was placed on the prayer book.

"Take it and put it on the fourth finger of the left hand," the clergyman instructed.

"Aye, I know." Donald snatched her hand and quickly pushed on the ring. "With this ring I thee wed. Right let's away to the wedding bed."

He dragged the girl out of the church leaving the clergyman to collapse into a pew, mopping his brow. A very unorthodox ceremony to be sure.

The village boasted only one small hotel, which was really nothing more than a house that was larger than the others. A room had already been arranged so it took only a few minutes for the couple to be alone in the bedroom.

"You'll be hanged for this, Donald McLachlan," Catherine shouted.

"And is that what you really want to see, my bonny wee wife."

He moved towards her. She backed away, although there wasn't very far for her to go.

"Yes, it is," she snapped. "I'll be at the front of the crowd, cheering on the hangman."

"No doubt you'll even put the noose around my neck yourself," said Donald softly. He came close to her.

"Yes, I will, and get pleasure from doing it."

He took her into his arms.

"There's other ways of getting pleasure."

"Not with you," spat Catherine, struggling against his embrace.

He gripped the back of her head and forced her lips to his. Unable to speak she mumbled unintelligibly, though her meaning was clear. No matter how much she squirmed or pushed against him it was all to no avail. He was far too powerful for her to stop him.

It was a very long, deep kiss. He could feel her breasts against his chest; she could feel his hardness against her thigh. Finally their lips separated.

"You'll have to take me, Donald McLachlan."

"Against your will?"

"There's nothing I can do to prevent you doing what you like. I'm to be ravished. That's why you carried me off. Everybody saw. You won't stand a chance in court."

"Will you testify as to your ravishment?"

"Most certainly."

"We'd better get on with it then. Remove your clothes."

"I will not."

"All right."

He took out a knife from a scabbard around his waist.

Catherine stepped back. "What are you doing?"

"Cutting the dress off your back."

"You can't do that."

"You forget, I'm your lord and master. Married in church. I can do anything I want." He raised the knife.

"Wait!" Catherine cried. "If you cut it I'll have nothing to wear."

"True. You'll have to return to the boat with nothing but your chemise. And if I have to cut that off you'll be parading through the street naked. For all to see. And when we're on the boat, I don't know that I'll be able to restrain my friends. The sight of you - all of you - will be too much for them. Besides, I have to pay for their help somehow and that seems as good a way as any."

Catherine looked horrified. "You wouldn't."

He shrugged. "Once I've taken your virginity you won't have the same attraction."

She began to beat him on the chest with her fists. "You beast!"

He reeled back. "Whoa! Watch the knife doesn't cut you. I wouldna want to spoil your pretty face."

Catherine stamped her foot. "You're completely heartless."

"It would save a lot of trouble if you simply got undressed. Without fuss...without shouting."

"I'm completely defenceless. What other choice do I have?"

She reached behind and began to undo the fastenings. Donald returned the knife to its scabbard and began to remove his own clothes. It took less than a minute for them both to be naked. Catherine stood proud and unashamed, even though this was the first time she had revealed all her charms to a man. A slight flush was the only outward sign of her embarrassment, though inside her stomach was full of butterflies.

He drank her in, from top to toe. He gazed and wondered at the perfection of her breasts, was entranced by the pubic hair and longed to see that most private place between her legs.

"Aye, Catherine McArthur," Donald sighed. "You're a real bonny lass."

For her part, she had absolutely no problem in seeing his member, for it stood out from his body, hard and straight. It looked so big to her and she knew that it all had to go inside her. She backed away a step and fell onto the foot of the bed. He came up close. His penis was just at the level of her mouth. The sight of it was enough to make her feel wet between her legs.

She had an overwhelming desire to kiss it. Gently running her hands along the length of the hardened member she leaned towards it and lightly kissed it...once...twice...three times, each kiss longer than the previous one. She ran her tongue up and down.

With his head thrown back and his eyes closed Donald gave a low groan. His hands were clutching her shoulders. The pressure gradually forced her onto her back, whilst he sank onto his knees. He was between her legs. His hands moved down to caress the softness of her breasts and his lips began to kiss the inside of her thighs. After a few moments he turned his attention to her clitoris, his tongue probing and stroking.

It was Catherine's turn to groan. She reached down and opened the lips of her vagina. His tongue reached into the depths of her. She was wet and aching to be filled.

"Please, Donald," she whispered.

"What is it?"

"I want you inside me. I want to feel your hardness all the way in."

"This is your first time, lass. I'll try not to hurt, but I canna promise."

"Rape is supposed to hurt."

"Aye, so it is."

He placed his member at the entrance to her secret chamber and slowly, carefully inserted it. There was a small gasp from Catherine. He paused for a moment then continued pushing in. Her vagina was stretching to take in the thickness and length of him.

She gasped again. A little louder.

His penis tore through her hymen and she gave a short cry of pain. He stopped.

"Are you all right?"

"It hurt."

"Do you want me to withdraw?"

"Oh, no. It was only a little pain and it's gone now. I want it all. Please, Donald."

The whole length of his penis disappeared inside her and she tightly gripped the coverlet. He slowly began rocking to and fro, his penis throbbing deep in her vagina. She was thrashing about within a few moments. Her insides were aflame and her whole body was flushed with excitement.

A cry escaped her lips as she reached an orgasm and she became completely still as Donald arched his back, thrusting even deeper into her. It seemed to her as if his penis had exploded and she felt the semen flooding into her.

They remained still and silent for a short while, then they both giggled.

Donald looked at his bride. "Did you enjoy your rape, lass?"

"Aye, I did. But tell me, are you only going to do it once?"

*****

A crowd was gathered around the mercat cross. They were reading a notice attached to it. Apparently Donald McLachlan was wanted by the law for abduction and rape - a hanging matter. Any information..etc..etc.

Amongst the crowd was Duncan McArthur.

"Where's your daughter and her husband now?" he was asked.

"I canna say for certain. Maybe England. Or Ireland."

"Aye, or up the glen a mile or two."

The townspeople laughed.

"Aye, mebbe. Mebbe."

Duncan walked away. He knew fine where they were, but he wasn't about to tell the authorities. All right, so they went against his wishes, but she was his only daughter and he loved her right well. As for that scoundrel Donald McLachlan...

He was a braw lad and no mistake.

And weren't they both going to give him a grandchild.

Duncan McArthur chuckled as he walked along the beach where his daughter had been so cruelly stolen away.