The Highlander's Little Lass
Page 5
Her bottom throbbed with what felt like a pulse of its own—a pulse matched by a throbbing that began deep between her legs as Bran’s finger grazed the slit of her pussy. She moaned, feeling the most delightful warmth and wetness growing between her legs. It was as if her cunny were unfurling like a rose—the inner petals unfolding and opening to his touch. On the next pass of his finger, he grazed those folds and then stopped to move the pad of his fingers in small circles at the top of her cleft. The other hand massaged her bottom, and the duality of pain and pleasure mingled until they were one and Glynis arched her bottom upwards and cried out.
“Aaaaaaaahhhh!”
“That’s it. There’s a good, sweet lass.” She gasped as she felt a finger slip inside. It didn’t go far, just a little, but it was enough to make the walls of her passage clench as if trying draw them in.
“I’m sorry!” she cried.
“No need to apologize, my wee bairn,” he said. “You were rude to your da, and as your new da I skelped you good and proper.”
Something about his words made her pussy clench even harder.
She looked back at him as best she could through her cloud of hair. “No! Not for that!” she cried. “For… for…”
Bran looked at her, puzzled. “For what then, lass?”
“For… for what my body’s doing!” Her hips were pushing backwards, encouraging the penetration of the finger he kept just clear of full insertion. “You’ll think I’m a wanton!”
“Ye are a wanton,” he said with a merry laugh, and pulled her from his lap to lay her on her back. Bran was above her now, his large body pinning her there. “And trust me, wee lass—there’s nothing to apologize for. In fact, the more wanton, the better. Let me show you.”
With one swift motion, he ripped the gown from her body. Glynis had no time to be frightened by his primal action, for the next thing she knew, Bran McKinnon’s leonine head was between her thighs and… no… this could not be!
“What are you doing?” Despite the fact that her toes were curling, some prim part of her could not accept the fact that Laird McKinnon had his face buried in her pussy.
“I’m eating yer sweet cunny,” he said, looking up at her with unashamed boldness. The lower half of his face was slick with her juices and Glynis found herself both aghast and excited at the almost feral look in his eyes.
“Eating…?” She tried to draw her knees up, but couldn’t move.
“Nae worry,” he said with a wicked grin. “I won’t really eat ye up. If I did that, there’d be no seconds or afters. And I intend to make a regular meal of ye.”
With that, he dipped his head back down, his mouth catching and holding the sensitive little nub of nerves at the apex of her cleft. There was a shower of sparkles behind Glynis’ eyes as her back arched and her pussy contracted in wave after wave of gushing pleasure. She could feel his large tongue, lapping up her juices, and she remembered how he’d compared her pussy to a valley, and mentioned the stream of excitement that would ease the way for his…
He entered her without warning, sliding up her body and thrusting his huge cock into her in a sweet, surprise assault. Glynis screamed more from surprise than any actual hurt. There was a fierce sting as he breached her maidenhead, and a sensation of almost unbearable fullness. He held her tightly as she cried out, soothing her with gentle words. And then she lay there, feeling her pussy stretch to accommodate what she now knew must be his cock. Bran the Bull. He was inside of her.
“You fit!” Her words were spoken in amazement.
“Aye. Even a wee lassie can take a big man if she’s sufficiently greased for the task. And your sweet cunny hugs my cock like she was made for it.” Now he was the one groaning. “Ach, lass. I feel the need to move inside your hot, sweet quim. Are you ready?”
Was she? Curiosity had overridden fear. And she found she wanted more. She looked up at this man, this man who said he knew her, this man who’d welted her bottom until she’d screamed and then made her forget the pain with the artful use of his fingers and tongue. Now he was imbedded in her and it wasn’t over. She felt him withdraw a bit, and winced as his shaft abraded the just ruptured hymen, but as he started to move in slow strokes, she felt his fleshy rod rub deep inside her in a place she could not fathom, and the pleasure she thought too good to replicate built again, more slowly this time, but with more intensity.
“Yer mine, wee highland lass,” he growled, and she felt the thrill of his words in her heart and her pussy. He was claiming her, making her his, asserting his ownership. All her life she’d felt just as he’d described—wild and unbidden. Now she lay beneath a man who reminded her with every stroke of his hips that he was the master in their relationship—her laird, caretaker, protector—the father figure she’d been denied, but something more, something so much more.
“Are ye close, lass?” He didn’t have to explain the question. She was at the peak again, and almost afraid of tumbling into yet another vortex of pleasure. But she knew he would not be denied. “Give in! Give yourself to me! Now!”
That was all it took. She came, her pussy clutching his cock rhythmically for the first time, milking his seed from him. She felt him pulse, could imagine that thing inside her—that cock—increasing in girth with each convulsion. What was it doing? What was happening? In her innocence, she did not know that they’d come together, at the same time.
Bran supported himself on his elbows as the last of his seed pumped into her velvety quim. After a few moments, he slowly, reluctantly withdrew, looking down on her. Glynis was such a beauty, with her skin blushed a healthy pink, her nipples dusky and hard. He regretted that he’d not suckled those sweet titties, but there would be time for that. There would be time for so much more.
He raised himself up for a better look. Her eyes had been closed, but now they fluttered open. Glynis was looking at his face, her expression satisfied but quizzical. Her gaze traveled down and Bran stayed still, letting her have her look as it trailed from the broad chest to the narrow hips to his cock. It was then that her eyes widened.
“Sweet Jesu!” she said, pulling herself to sitting and wincing as she did. Her eyes were large as they stared at his slowly softening cock. “You had that in me? How am I not dead?”
He laughed aloud. “This is why I could nae show ye, lass. You’d have been too afraid. Your mind would not have allowed your body to take me within ye. But see how well you pulled me in. And with less virgin blood than one would expect.”
She looked down between her legs. The peach of her pink pussy was oozing pearly spunk tinged with pink virgin’s blood onto the bedclothes. Glynis stared, fascinated.
“All that, from me?”
“Nae, lassie.” He frowned. “Dinna that nanny tell you anything?”
“Only that you’d know what to do, and that it may hurt.”
Bran made a noise that indicated his exasperation. “She should have told ye more. The blood is yours, but it’ll only happen once. Ye had a small bit of skin just inside yer sweet little cunny hole—your maidenhead. When I pushed through that, it tore. But it’s done for now. The other—that shiny white cream—that’s my seed. It’s what a man puts in a woman so that his child grows in her belly.”
At this, Glynis went pale. She drew up her knees to her chest and Bran realized with sudden concern that she’d begun to shake and cry. “Is that what you’ve done to me, then? Put a child in me?” She was sobbing now. “And now I’ll die. Just like my mum!”
“No, lass. No…” He drew her into his arms now, holding her tight and stroking her hair. “My seed will only put a child in your belly if you are fertile for it. Think of it as sowing seed in a field. If the ground won’t grow, there’s no crop.” She looked at him, puzzled, as he continued. “Glynis, I want no other bairns save the one I hold in my arms. Even before we left your da’s, I instructed Ina to put a bit of powder in the cup of milk ye take before bed. The powder has no odor, no taste, but it’s mixed by a wise woman of my clan w
As Glynis threw herself into Bran’s arms, he caught her with a delighted laugh, relishing in her small size and childlike trust. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Laird McLeod, who’d known of his reputation. He’d told Bran that while he had no choice but to give the McKinnon his beloved daughter, he did not want to live with the regret of knowing she’d gone to a man who shamed her with continuations of his famed sexual exploits.
Now as he buried his face into the cloud of red hair, inhaling the scent of his little lady bairn, Laird McKinnon knew his comrade across the border would never hear of such a betrayal. There would never be a woman who could please him as this tiny waif. He knew he was in control, but the power she held over him was something she could never comprehend.
Chapter Six: Preparing Her Pretty Bottom
Glynis had entered Laird Bran McKinnon’s bedchamber as a reluctant innocent fearing what would happen to her in the clutches of a stranger. She emerged a more knowing young woman, but with the added realization that while she wasn’t the first woman who’d felt the touch of Bran the Bull, his relationship with her would be different than any he’d ever had.
“Any lass can be tumbled,” he’d said the morning after he’d taken her for the third time, this time from behind. “But only one lass can be my own wee one. That’s you, little Glynis.”
She still felt special, even now, as nanny led her away from Bran’s bedchamber. She’d been grateful that Ina had the forethought to bring a fresh gown to replace the one the laird had ripped from her body. She’d blinked back tears as they parted, and he’d kissed her and told her that were he not laird, they’d spend all day in bed. But there were duties to be seen to, and disputes to hear, and his factor was coming to call later in the day and such things needed attention.
As the daughter of a laird, it was easy enough to understand. Similar duties had kept her father busy; now she was to endure the same in the man who’d assumed dual roles as both husband and surrogate father.
Bran told Glynis that she would spend her day in the company of her nanny Ina. “When I’m nae there to correct ye, ‘tis her job. Ye ken?” Bran’s paternal tone brooked no disobedience.
“What am I do to all day?” she asked. Back at Castle McLeod, she’d run wild with Ina trailing on her heels, begging her to be careful.
“Whatever your nanny says,” came the answer. Then he winked. “I’ve much more in store for that sweet body, lass, and am countin’ on nanny to help prepare ye for what I’ve got planned.”
More? What more could there be? She flushed, remembering his face between her legs, his cock, his fingers… what more could the man plunder? She had no time to ask before nanny Ina was guiding her from the room. Glynis expected to be taken back to the small room she’d shared with Ina before her union with Bran. But instead she was taken to an entirely different room. As soon as she entered, she stopped short and stared.
“What is that?”
“’Tis your new bed on the nights you’re nae with yer husband.”
Glynis looked at Ina, then back, pointing. “That’s nae a lady’s bed. It’s a…”
“A wee child’s, one made especially for a bairn whose outside has grown faster than her inside.” Ina walked over, running her hand across the curved top. “The laird had it handcrafted. Isn’t it a fine wedding present?”
Glynis could think of any number of things she’d have rather had—dresses she knew she was now not allowed to wear, horses she probably wouldn’t be able to ride without being led, jewels… all things that men shared with their wives, their adult wives. The presence of the simple nursery bed was just another reminder of what she now realized was her husband’s unique taste for an age-regressed wife, and how her natural immaturity and willfulness had made her the perfect complement in this unusual union.
“This is the nursery,” Ina said, walking around the room. “There’s a small chamber for me, off to the side, and another chamber across the way for a private bath and a chamber pot.”
Glynis was used to a chamber pot being beside the bed. She wondered if it was the way of the McKinnon to have a separate room for the purpose, and moved to peek inside the room where there was indeed a chamber pot, an oak tub but also a small bed similar to the one she’d occupied on her first nights at the castle.
“Why is there a bed in the bath chamber?” She looked back at Ina, puzzled.
“The bed is for things that will need to be done—shavings, cleansing…”
The shaving Glynis was now aware of. She blushed as she remembered how sensitive her pussy had been without its fleecy shield, how the slightest touch of Bran’s fingers and tongue… she pushed the thoughts from her mind as she focused on the unusual term.
“Cleansing?”
“Yes. You’ll get your first one this morning after breakfast, and if you’re a good bairn and endure it without a fuss, afterwards you’ll get a nice hot bath and spend your day doing pleasant things until your husband calls you to his room.”
“He’ll send for me again tonight?”
“Laird McKinnon is a man of substantial appetite. Judging by the way you’re walking this morning, I wager you got quite an education last night. And it’s only just begun.”
That was all nanny Ina would say. The next thing Glynis knew, a maid was bringing in a breakfast tray, and several more servants were hauling steaming buckets of water to the oak tub in the small chamber. If they noticed the novelty of the new Lady McKinnon’s quarters, the servants did not acknowledge it. Glynis was happy for this, and grateful that at least she was allowed to feed herself. She was, she realized, quite famished after a night of bed sport, and finished all the thick porridge, salted pork, and brown bread she’d been served. There was a cup of creamy milk as well. As Glynis drained it, she recalled Bran’s words about the special medicine she’d been given daily. She thought of her sisters, who used to play with pretend babies and prayed that as wives they’d bear strong children. Glynis’ prayers had always been the opposite; now those prayers would be answered.
But there were other sacrifices Glynis would have to make as Bran McKinnon’s child bride, even if she didn’t realize it at the time. And the next step of her training was about to begin.
“You…” The nanny approached one of the two maids who’d come to clear away the dishes. “Dinna stray far. I may need your help, so keep an ear out should I call. Send the dishes with the other and wait outside the door.”
The maid cast a wary look at the imposing nanny, who was already gaining some prominence among the staff given her relationship with Laird McKinnon’s new wife. But it was a strained authority. Several times nanny had grumbled that the lower staff seemed reluctant to afford a McLeod maid the same respect they’d have given one of their own.
“Aye,” the maid said tersely, and handed the dishes over to her fellow servant. After the pair left, Glynis turned to her nanny.
“Why did you ask one of them to stay close?”
“In case I need her to hold you down.”
Glynis wasn’t sure she heard right. “Hold me… down? For what?”
Ina walked over and took the younger woman’s small hands in her own. “Your laird is smitten with you, both as his wife and his wee one. But make no mistake, lass, he is still a hard man, and his expectations of ye have nae changed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re a lass of quick temper and high emotions. For the moment you’re mellowed by your man’s attention and your first proper lovemaking. It’s gentled ye, and I aim to keep you that way, which is why you’ll now get the same cleansings yer sisters got when they were in my charge.”
Cleansings. Glynis again tried to remember. She’d thought the word new and strange, but now when she thought back to her childhood, there were times she’d heard whispers of nanny’s special practice, spoken in hushed and dreaded tones.
“Of what am I being cleansed? And where?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, even as she asked the question.
“Of things that bind and cause distress internally,” Nanny said gently. “You’ll take a bag of medicine into your bottom, hold it, and then push it out. Believe me, ‘tis a great release. My ma taught me the practice from when she was a nanny, and used it on us. ‘Twas a practice started far away in desert lands, and brought to France by travelers, so ‘tis nothing new. ‘Tis good for your health and disposition, and as an added benefit, it cleans the bottom passage so that your laird can better explore it.”
Glynis worried the fabric of her gown with her small hands. “And why would my husband want to explore my… bottom passage?”
“That is for him to say. It is only my task to make you as squeaky clean and sweet inside as outside. Into the chamber with ye.”
When Glynis remained rooted to the floor, nanny Ina crossed her arms. “Would you rather I call the maid? Trust me, a cleansing is something you want to keep private.”
Glynis dropped her eyes, her face flaming. She had no idea what the procedure would entail, but imagined it would include a full view of a bare bottom that still bore the marks of a sound strapping and a glimpse of her freshly shaven and well-used pussy.
She realized it was an incredibly childlike gesture to rub the sleeve of her shirt across her pert little nose as a hitching sob escaped her. Ina clucked maternally as she guided her charge into the chamber. Steam rose from the oak tub; by the time the cleansing was over, the water would still be warm but not cool.
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