by Lily Harlem
“But why did you take it in the first place?”
His eyes flashed; she wondered if she saw excitement in them, anticipation too.
What does he have planned for me?
“I really can’t tell you, sir.”
For if I do I could face a terrible fate if he so chooses.
“You’re being a brat, and disobedient and awkward on purpose. Do you think that’s befitting of a servant of the laird?”
“No.” She shook her head and looked down at her feet.
“Go over there.” He nodded at the table and released her wrist. “And face the window.”
A tremble caught in her belly. Her feet felt rooted to the floor.
“Now!”
“Yes, sir.” She hurried to the table, her belly tight and her pulse thudding in her ears. The material of her dress scratched against her smarting ass cheeks.
She stared out of the window, but didn’t see anything in the courtyard. Instead she studied his reflection as he put on his kilt and sporran. He then added his shirt, tunic, and plaid before sitting and lacing up his boots.
The anticipation was almost as agonizing as the slaps he’d delivered.
When he was fully dressed he came to stand at her side.
She dared to look at him and despite her nervousness she admired his handsome face and the way his clothes hung on his tall, strong body.
“This,” he said, setting the handkerchief on the table before her, “has just earned you twenty strikes. It should be more, but I have only a wee bit of time right now.”
“Strikes?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, lass. Bend over.” He nodded at the table.
She tightened her buttocks and her pussy contracted. Setting her hands on the cool wooden surface, she bent forward.
“Here.” He held a thick wooden peg in front of her face. “Bite on this. I don’t wish for you to cry out; if you do, later, when I have more time, I will deliver another twenty strikes.”
She opened her dry mouth and he set the hard peg between her teeth. She bit down on it, her teeth seeming to sink into the wood.
“And keep still,” he said, moving to her side and once again pulling up her skirts.
They settled over her back as her buttocks were exposed. A quiver went through her pussy and over her skin.
This is going to be so much worse than the last two strikes.
She closed her eyes and locked her knees together. Part of her wished she’d never taken the handkerchief but she’d had no choice, she’d needed something of his for the spell.
Shall I run, get away?
The thought was so brief it was barely there. She couldn’t avoid her punishment. McTavish was determined about it and even more than that, she’d earned it.
“Legs apart,” he said, his voice firm. He touched her ankles with his boot.
She did as instructed and instantly a flame of heat raged over her right buttock. He’d spanked her with gusto, his palm seeming to burn against her skin.
A shocked cry caught in her throat and rattled around the peg.
“This is your one and only reminder to keep quiet.”
She clenched her fists and curled her toes. Her pussy was damp and every muscle tense.
Another slap struck her ass, the opposite buttock this time.
She danced onto her toes and shifted her hips from left to right.
“Keep still, Isla. It’s clear you need to be taken in hand by a strong man, this is bad behaviour.”
The word sorry was on her lips but couldn’t come out.
The spanking continued. She had no idea how many slaps rained down, they all blurred into one.
She did her best to remain motionless but it was hard as the pain grew.
Tears formed in her eyes and over-spilled. The shame of taking a spanking from the laird’s important guest was almost too much to bear. What would her employer say if he found out about this?
“You’re halfway there,” McTavish said, smoothing his palms over her fire-hot ass cheeks. “And I hope you’re learning that not only must you not steal, you mustn’t refuse to tell me something I wish to ken.”
She couldn’t answer, and instead stared at the TT on the handkerchief laid out in front of her.
He resumed the punishment with swift, hard spanks alternating between her buttocks.
The tears fell, she whimpered and created deep impressions of her teeth on the peg.
“In the future,” he said.
Slap.
“You will…”
Slap.
“Obey me when I ask something of you.”
Slap.
A sob caught in her throat. She knew they had a future—she’d cast the spell. And now she knew McTavish was a man she’d naught be able to trick. He was too canny. Which was of course one of the very things that had attracted her to him.
Finally the spanking came to an end.
He flicked her dress over her ass and the hem swished against her ankles.
“You may stand.”
She did as he’d asked though struggled to find even a scrap of dignity. She was breathing fast, her butt hurt so much, and tears were slipping down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” He removed the peg and tossed it onto the table.
“Because… because I disappointed you, sir.”
“Aye, you did. And one day, Isla Dunoon, you will tell me why you took that handkerchief.”
She didn’t reply.
He set his hands on her shoulders. “I need you on your knees, eyes closed.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.”
“Shall I spank you again? I ken full well you heard that instruction.”
“Yes, sir. I mean no, sir.” Quickly she folded to her knees.
Damn and blast, my ass hurts so bad.
She hovered above her heels so her poor abused butt didn’t touch anything. She closed her eyes.
“And don’t open them,” he said. “There will be consequences.”
Trapped in a dark world, Isla could only hear.
A rustle of clothing.
The friction of flesh on flesh.
Rapid breathing.
“Oh, God…” he moaned.
What is he doing?
“Keep still, just there, open your mouth… tongue out.”
The sounds increased. He was almost panting, moaning too. And the noise just in front of her; rapid movements that shifted the air slightly.
She longed to open her eyes, to see what he was doing.
Is he working his cock?
She guessed he was, but she didn’t dare look, much as she wanted to. Her ass couldn’t take any more.
“That’s it, further… tongue… out… more.” There was excitement in his tone, as if he were breathless too.
She tried to taste what was happening, and then something thick and warm landed on her tongue.
“That’s it. Argh… Keep your eyes… closed.”
Squeezing her eyelids tighter together, she was aware of more salty liquid coating her tongue. It spread on her lips too, and her chin.
“Aye, that’s it, lass. So pretty.”
The movements in front of her stopped. She clasped her hands in her lap and kept her tongue out. It was hard, she wanted to draw it in and coat her mouth with what he’d given her.
“Good,” he said, cupping her cheeks in his palms. “Now you can taste me. Pull in your tongue. But keep your eyes closed.”
She did as he’d asked and tangy fluid coated her palate. It was his seed, she ken it was. She might be a virgin but she wasn’t naïve.
“That was much better,” he said. “You obeyed me well.”
She sensed him standing and there was more rustling of clothing.
“Stand and open your eyes,” he ordered.
Isla did both.
McTavish stood before her, his clothing neat and ordered but with a slight rise of colour on his cheeks.
“Here.” He handed her the
handkerchief. “You need to wipe your face.”
“Thank you.” She dabbed at the stickiness.
“I may have relieved some of my desire for you,” he said, taking her hand. “But if you’re wondering if my cock will be hard again soon, thinking of you without panties and a delightfully rosy ass, the answer is aye, it will be.”
“I wasn’t wondering that.”
“I think you were.” He brought her knuckles to his mouth and set a lingering kiss there. “And I think that’s what you wanted, what you planned when you took something of mine. You wanted more time with me. What you hadn’t bargained on with your wee plan was that a spanking would be involved.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. It was almost as if he knew she’d cast a spell on him. A love spell.
“I should make haste.” He straightened and released her. “The laird will not be happy if I make a late entrance to his nephew’s wedding.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Aye, you should.”
“And you must too, for Mrs. Humphrey will tan your hide some more if you are absent much longer.” He paused. “And I’m sure your ass has taken enough for one day.”
“Aye, sir, it has.”
“Go on then. Be quick.”
Isla rushed from the room. Her buttocks were on fire, her heart swollen with emotions she’d never experienced before, and her breaths were coming in short, sharp snatches. The salty taste of McTavish lingered in her mouth.
Deep in the forest she’d performed a spell in alliance with Mother Nature to snare Trevor McTavish and she still wanted him. But what the hell had she let herself in for? He was a Highlander who demanded obedience from not just his men, but also his women. And if he didn’t get it, his hands were skilled at delivering discipline.
The moment Isla entered the kitchen instructions were barked her way.
“Get this out to the feasting table, Isla.”
“Why are the damn cats under my feet? Isla, get them out of here, now.”
“Isla, where have you been?” Una scowled at her. “Have you been crying?”
“No, of course not. And I’ve been tending the laird’s guest as you told me to.” Isla swiped at her hot cheeks and reached for a plate of spiced boiled cabbage. “You said you’d had enough of running up and down the stairs with water, remember.”
“Aye, but I would have done it myself if I’d ken you’d take so long.”
Isla ignored her and left the room with the cabbage. The material of her dress abraded her ass cheeks and her thighs slicked together. Despite her undignified punishment happiness wound around her heart and filled her chest. It was like a bubble growing, expanding, and searing through her veins.
‘I may have relieved some of my desire for you. But if you’re wondering if my cock will be hard again soon, thinking of you without panties and a delightfully rosy ass, the answer is aye, it will be.’
The spell had worked, she was sure of it. He spoke of desire for her, and his cock getting hard at the thought of her. Aye, she’d admit the fairies had meddled and it hadn’t gone completely to plan, but he wanted her. Of that she was certain.
So, even Una’s sour tones couldn’t dull Isla’s mood. She was a woman in love and every moment that went past convinced her the man of her dreams was falling for her too.
Chapter Six
The wedding ceremony was a great cause for celebration. Isla soon became caught up in the joy radiating from the laird’s nephew, Kendal, and the woman who would be the future lady of the house.
Luckily the bride seemed nice and Isla wasn’t afraid of her taking up the position as she very much gave the impression of being a caring, kindly woman who would be fair with her staff.
She also appeared to be fair with her attentions between both her new husband and his best friend, Reid Murray, but Isla didn’t dwell on that. So long as she wasn’t interested in Trevor McTavish, the new Lady Kendal McDonald could do what the hell she wanted.
Isla’s feet ached as she tended the guests who seemed to have hollow legs, they ate and drank so much.
She managed to take the time to enjoy a plate of the feast herself. Una did the same and they stood side by side in the kitchen. The window open behind them allowed a slight relief from the sunny spring day, made warmer by their rushing about.
“It should have been my day off,” Una muttered as she stabbed a chunk of cheese onto her fork.
“Aye, I ken.” It was Isla’s monthly day off the following day; she was glad it hadn’t clashed with the sudden wedding as Una’s had.
“My old man will be having a grand rage.” Una shook her head and frowned. “He’s expecting me wages, likely he’ll be out of ale too.”
Isla beat down a shiver. She’d only met Una’s husband once and that was a time too many. He was a great big bear of a man with a temper to match. And once he had a few drinks in his gut he was free and easy with his fists. “Are your two bairns still attending school?”
“When they can. Rabbie likes them to help around the house, and by that I mean do all the chores while he sits his lazy ass on a chair.”
Isla frowned. She didn’t ken why Una had married Rabbie eight years ago. He’d never been a handsome man, not even on his wedding day—a fact that could have been overlooked had he been of a gentle and kind demeanour and with a wish to provide for his family.
“Maybe he’ll drink so much he’ll fall into a bog one night, or onto the end of a Red Coat’s sword.” Una rolled her eyes. “If I’m lucky.”
“Aye, perhaps your luck will be in.” Isla bit into a chunk of bread and butter.
“Though it happening before I get home tonight with me wages is pushing that luck.”
“You’re going tonight? To the village?”
“I’ll have to borrow a horse and get there. Likely I’ll get a hiding for being so late but I’ll have to put up with that.”
“A hiding… don’t you mean a spanking?”
“Huh, a spanked ass I could put up with, might even enjoy it.” Una grinned suddenly and her usual dour face changed to a pretty one. “If it were with a man I could enjoy myself with.” The crease lines in her forehead returned. “But no Rabbie. He’s no the type to have fun with.”
“But you must have once, when you laid with him.”
“Aye, once, maybe.” She shrugged and set down her empty plate. “But no since. I’ll give ye a wee bit of advice, Isla.”
“Go on.”
“When you eventually find yourself a Scotsman to marry, make sure he’s kind… oh, I don’t mean one that won’t tip you over his knee if you disobey him, ‘cause they’ll all do that, but kind in a way that means he’ll be fair, won’t use his fists and…” She tipped closer and lowered her voice. “Makes sure that when you lay together you also get pleasure.”
An image of McTavish grew in Isla’s mind, her peripheral vision blurred and she thought of his face so close to hers as he’d cupped her cheeks. His eyes had flashed with desire, he’d been excited by her, she’d ken that, but he’d also been in tune with her body, and understood the ways and wants of a woman. “I’ll try to remember your advice.” She licked her lips, remembering his taste. Knowing what he’d done when she’d had her eyes closed thrilled her.
“Aye, you do that. Not that you’ll ever meet anyone here. All those blow-ins are good for nothing ale-swillers who harp on about the rightful king.”
“Scotland securing the true throne is of great importance.”
“Aye, I agree, but in day to day life a bit of fun is more important.” Una set down her plate. “I’ll take more ale out, you do the same.”
“Aye, I’ll just finish this up.”
“Be quick, I don’t want to have to do all the work.”
Isla scowled at Una’s retreating back then turned to the window. Una was getting more snappy as she got older, but haps that was a symptom of being married to a brute who could barely look after himself, let alone their two offspring when Una was working her fingers
to the bone.
When she’d finished her lunch and had a mug of ale to sustain herself, Isla slipped away to make a sage poultice for McTavish. A few days with the healing qualities of the herb should do the trick, if not she’d have to source ginger and make him a salve of that with garlic, clove, and cinnamon. She carefully placed the poultice in her pocket.
When she returned to the kitchen she piled up another tray of ale mugs to take to the feasting room. One of the stable hands had been given the job of tippler but was struggling to keep up with the guzzling crowd.
McTavish was seated at the top of the table next to the laird. The bride and groom sat to his right—the bride particularly beautiful despite needing salts after a walk in the wood the day before—and Reid, the groom’s ever-present friend was also close by.
Isla studied them. When she’d glanced up at the landing a few nights previously she’d seen the bride with this man Reid, the man she wasn’t promised to. There’d been something between them. It had almost crackled in the air like a shower of tiny sparks from the farrier’s hammer. They were more than comfortable together as friends. They were burning with something else… desire?
If that was the case she hoped the laird’s nephew Kendal wouldn’t get hurt by his wife’s infidelity. Isla had always liked Kendal when he’d visited. He, like his uncle, was a gentle man despite being a fierce warrior. Though Laird McDonald didn’t do warrior duty these days. His bones were becoming aged.
As she piled her tray with empty plates, bowls, and mugs, her attention landed on McTavish.
He was staring her way despite having the bride’s brother, Bryce, talking animatedly to him and the laird.
She stilled; it was as if everyone else in the room faded away. The noise in her ears quieted. It was only him she could see, or wanted to see.
He raised his right hand, then smoothed the fingers of his left over his right palm.
Her cheeks flushed and her buttocks tingled as though nettle tips were brushing over them. She remembered the feel of him holding up her skirts and exposing her ass. The way his lips had trailed over her skin. And the slaps, the spanking, they were lasting reminders that they’d been so intimate.
A smile tilted his lips and his eyes sparkled.