Beneath Their Control

Ailene sat down on the ground and fanned herself. She was still wearing cold weather clothes, her woolen shift, the heavy brocade stays, the woolen skirt. Unfortunately, the weather was warmer than usual for this time of year. It was a beautiful sunny day; she had left with the sunrise to collect herbs for medicines. The area outside the Keep had ample amounts of Betony, Blacberry, Lesser Burdock, Bog Myrtle, Wild Garlic, Meadowsweet, Wild Marjoram, Tormentil and Valerian. The winter months had seriously depleted the Keep’s supplies, and she wanted to replenish their stores. Some needed to be dried to be effective, which took time. She was going against the explicit wishes of the Laird, Thorburn, and her husband, Stuart, by leaving Cameron Keep without guards, but it was ridiculous that she take several guards for the day, especially when everything needed was within a half mile of the Keep.

She pondered the strange relationships between the brothers. Thorburn was Stuart’s eldest brother, and nominally the leader of the Cameron family, but he let Stuart run the clan business since he’d been doing it for the last five years as their father’s health deteriorated.

Thorburn was the eldest son of Jamison Cameron and the former Viking shield maiden, Brynhildr. Jamison had met her at one of the Viking trading settlements that sprang up on the coast. Their courtship was unusual; he’d had to defeat the Vikings best warrior before she would look at him. But after he’d proven himself a doughty warrior, she did. Thorburn was the result of their union. He was 32, blue-eyed, reddish-blonde hair, tall; easily 6 feet 4 inches, and 225 pounds. He was massive, easily confirming the name his mother had given him before bleeding out in childbirth - Thor’s Bear. He’d gone raiding with his mother’s people after reaching 18 summers. He’d lived an adventurous life since, selling his services as a mercenary in various armies, and exploring parts of Greenland. He’d returned home with his uncle, Brynhildr,s brother, Bjarke, after the death of his father to take over as the Laird. He had no interest in the details of managing clan matters, which is why Stuart continued running things. He took over the training of the Men-at-Arms.

Frang, the middle child, was 28, 5 feet, 9 inches tall and 180 pounds. He had his mothers eyes and hair, brown and black respectively. He was the result of the marriage of Jamison and a French woman, Amandine. Frang meant French in Gaelic. Jamison met Amandine a couple years after the death of his first wife, Brynhildr. They met while Jamison visited the French court, trying to arrange the trade of Scottish woolens and fish with the French. While unnecessary to directly involve the crown in his trading, receiving the proper letters of introduction from the French crown made his job easier. Amandine was one of the Queens handmaidens and while the Queen was not fond of giving up her favorite maid to the gruff Scotsman, the King insisted. Anyone who hated the English as he did should be aided at all costs. Unfortunately, that marriage was nearly as brief as his first and the lovely Amandine died of the fever when Frang was two.

Frang was a gambler, a womanizer and a lover of horses. He left his father’s household at 18 as well, going to France and successfully keeping himself in clothes, food and women by gambling without resorting to the money his father provided him when he left. Cards, dice, horse racing, it didn’t matter what he gambled on, it was all the same to him. Because the women with whom he associated weren’t always unattached, Frang was forced into a few duels against slighted husbands. He was quite adept at that too. After the death of his father, he also returned home.

That left Stuart, her husband. Stuart was 24, nearly a head taller than her, with green eyes and brown hair, and 195 pounds. His mother was an English woman, Beatrix, whose ship had wrecked in a storm off the rocky coast near their home. All survivors were brought to Dervaig where Jamison met her on a market day. Her family had all died in the wreck and she was still young at 28, nearly half the age of Jamison when they met. He believed that his two young sons needed a mother, so he courted and eventually married her. Stuart was the only progeny of that marriage and she had been a wonderful mother to all three boys until her death when thrown from a horse. Her death was the last thing holding Thorburn at home and he left soon after. Jamison had not married again. He felt unluckily fated in love. All his wives dying quite young and fairly soon after he’d married, Beatrix lasting the longest at eleven years.

Ailene had married Stuart just under eight months ago. They had married after the harvest season, three months before Jamison died. It was an arranged marriage, Jamison wanting to find a proper wife for his son before he was gone. Jamison had slowly deteriorated for several years and Stuart was forced into much of the running of the Keep and lands of the Laird. Stuart was a good catch for her, even if he was the third son, because at the time, no one knew if or when his older brothers would ever return.

The amazing thing was, she couldn’t love Stuart more than if she’d picked him herself. She was the lady of the house until his brothers married. When they married, she would have to surrender her position, but until then, she governed the household. The two older brothers had missed the wedding, no one knowing for certain where they were. It wasn’t until after Jamison’s death that letters had found them and they’d returned home.

Stuart was kind, handsome, strong and lusty. That he was attracted to her, she knew well, because he was always after her. Not a day went by without him sneaking up behind her and running his hands over her breasts or bum, or lifting her skirts and taking her when there wasn’t a servant present. It didn’t matter if it was the bedroom, the kitchen, the pantry or the barn, he enjoyed pleasuring his wife and she enjoyed being pleasured. It wasn’t unusual for her to be brushing hay or flour off her skirts, adjusting them, straightening her hair, while slapping his hands away if a servant happened by, a blush in her cheeks at being caught thus disheveled. She knew the servants commented on it.

The oddity of the brother’s relationships was their unnatural closeness to one another. Maybe it was because they’d spent so much time together when young, especially between mother’s. Maybe it was that they’d been so long apart, but whatever it was, it bordered on abnormal. It seemed that they should be competing against one another all the time; that was the way of it in most homes. But not with Thorburn, Frang and Stuart.

If Stuart bought something at the market and one of the others remarked upon it, it was immediately gifted to them. If Frang had a favorite horse and Thorburn or Stuart expressed an interest, it was theirs. If Thorburn had a blade that he particularly cared for and Stuart said he would like one similar, the blade was given to him. There was nothing that any of them had they would not immediately give to his brother if they expressed an interest. Ailene had asked Stuart about it once after he’d given his best hunting dog to Thorburn and Stuart just said that they shared everything, always had, always would.

Ailene glanced around the glade where she’d gathered her herbs. The trees and bushes around it were thick and dense and it was unlikely that anyone would stumble through it by accident. As there was no one around, she loosened her stays and lifted her skirts, slipping one hand between her legs while the other gently stroked her breast. Just imagining her husband and the many ways that he appreciated her womanly charms was enough to cause the wetness to flow between her legs. The thought of his big hands fondling her breasts or his stiff cock plunging into her damp folds caused her breath to catch in her throat. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have found a lover like him who made every time she was with him a joy and a pleasure.

Ailene remembered her marriage night distinctly, already wet in the remembrance. Her fingers lazily stroked herself as she recalled that magical night. She came to her marriage bed a virgin and somewhat afraid based upon the stories told her by others. The pain of surrendering maidenhood to a man had been reported by all of her married friends. It was with no little trepidation that Stuart led her upstairs to the hoots and hollers of the attending guests, some of them quite lewd and obscene. She remembered blushing as she heard their comments and Stuart’s laughing good-naturedly at their ribald comments.

Stuart led her into their bedroom, a fire already lit in the fireplace, bringing the temperature to a nice, warm level, perhaps a bit too warm for clothes. Stuart removed his coat, tossing it over a chair by the fire and led her to the bed. He had her sit on the bed while he took off her shoes, then her stockings, his hand caressing her thighs in the process. Taking her hands, he raised her to a standing position, and with her facing the fire, the light flickering on her face, he slowly undressed her. First the overdress, the stays, the under dress, finally the chemise, exposing her pale breasts and the delta at her loins; making her to raise her arms to cover herself.

He held her hands in his and slowly pulled her hands out and away, saying, “Let me look at you, my beautiful wife.”

He gathered her garments and laid them toward the end of the bed. Turning back to her, his heated gaze moved up and down her body, her hands rose again to cover her sex.

“Nae, lassie. You’re wonderful. Take no shame in your appearance. You’re as god made you, and no finer creation on all the earth has he made, I’d hold to it.”

She blushed again and slowly lowered her hands to her sides, her fingers balling up in tight little fists, wanting more than anything to cover herself as this was the first time she’d ever been naked before a man. The firelight was bright enough to show all of her charms while still leaving intriguing shadows that Stuart was aching to explore.

Ailene had just turned 20. The top of her head came up to his shoulders. She was a slender 120 pounds and her breasts were perched high on her chest, pert and a wee bit more than a handful. A premise that he proceeded to check by placing his hands on them, checking their weight and heft in his palms. He felt her nipples stirring under his hands. He ran his hands down her sides, into her slim waist and over the swelling of her hips, wide enough to bear healthy children, but still slender. The thatch of hair at her cleft was slightly darker than the hair on her head, a lovely brunette with just a hint of red highlights from the sun. He knelt before her ran his hands down one leg and up the other, brushing her sex lightly as he did so. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, wondering if her virginity was to be taken right now. He stood and pulled her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. She had a light dusting of pale freckles on her slightly upturned nose, perfectly set in a nicely oval face, over a wide mouth with luscious lips he could imagine wrapping around his prick.

He leaned down and brushed her lips with his, saying, “Perhaps you could help me take off my things?”

It was posed as a question and not a demand. She removed the shoulder cloak of his filleadh mòr, then unlacing his shirt. After it was loosened, she grabbed the bottom and began tugging it up over his wide chest, exposing the curly little hairs on his chest, and over his head. She’d seen men’s chests before; they often worked thus in the fields in the heat of the summer, and some men were hairy as bears while others had none, but Stuart had a nice dusting of soft hairs. Blushing, she wondered how they would feel pressed to her breasts. As she blushed, she lowered her head. Stuart didn’t know what caused her to blush again, but he liked her modesty and how quickly it brought the color to her cheeks.

“There’s still more to go,” he said.

She blushed again and he raised his hand to brush her cheek. She looked down and pulled out the kilt pin. She unwrapped his kilt, many yards of fabric. The kilt dropped and he was naked beneath, save for knee socks and sturdy shoes. She turned him to the bed so he could sit. It took a couple tugs on each shoe for her to remove them, then she could pull the socks off.

While her face was down, working on his stockings and shoes, she stole a couple quick glances at his manhood. She was not totally naive; she lived in the country and had seen animals procreating. She knew what was down there, but not how it looked nor how big it was. Her mother had done her best to prepare her for the marriage night, including a limited description of a mans equipment. His was about four inches long and lying over his sack, but even as she snuck her quick glances, it seemed to be lengthening and thickening. After she’d removed his shoes and stockings, he stood up. She was kneeling before him, at the moment of truth. It was larger than she’d thought it would be, both longer and thicker. It was twitching somewhat, bobbing like a cork in a barrel and had veins running up and down it’s length. The head was slightly hooded, with a head peeking from the hood.

“Have you ever seen one before?” Stuart asked.

“Nae on a man,” Ailene answered.

“Go ahead and touch it,” he said. “It’s bigger than it normally is, but not as big as it’s going to get.”

“It gets bigger?” Ailene said, suddenly worried that this thing would be penetrating her body.

“It has to,” he replied, “and harder too, the better to love you, my wife.”

“Won’t it hurt me if it’s bigger than that?” Ailene asked.

“I won’t lie to you. The first time is almost always painful, because your maidenhood has to be broken,” he said. “But you have to remember that a child comes out of the same place that I will be putting my cock in, and that’s much bigger. I know childbirth’s quite painful, but we are speaking of something much smaller than that. I have nae doubt that I can make this more pleasurable than your fears make it. Go ahead, touch it.”

Her hand reached out and grasped the roll of meat she was facing, like a sausage it was. When her fingers circled it, it leapt in her hand, and she pulled away.

“It won’t hurt you,” Stuart said, “touch it again.”

Her fingers circled it again and this time she didn’t pull away when it moved in her hand. It was heavy and warm, and softer than she thought it would be. The more she handled it, the larger and harder it became. The plum shaped head pushed its way from the hood and a small drop of clear fluid formed on the tip at the slit in the top of the plum.

“The fluid makes everything slippery, so it goes in easier. Touch it and find out,” he said.

He was right. She touched it and her finger easily slid over the surface of the purplish head. It made her want to touch it more.

“That’s enough of that. Come here,” he said, sitting down and patting the bed beside him.

She sat on the bed and he pulled her down with him into a reclining position. He kissed her, gently at first, then with more force, owning her lips. His tongue began an assault on her mouth as he forced hers open and their tongues wrestled, slipping and sliding about, seemingly investigating every corner of her mouth. She could taste the ale that he’d toasted to their marriage with. His hand moved up to her breast and possessed it, kneading it, stroking and petting it. He felt her nipples grow and harden in his palms, and he pinched at them with his fingers, stretching and teasing them, never hurtful, but letting her know he now considered them his.

It wasn’t long before his hand drifted down her torso and his lips replaced his fingers on her breasts, licking and sucking, paying attention to her nipples which she found most sensitive under his oral administrations and she moaned as his hand cupped her womanhood. His fingers stroked lightly up and down her inner thighs, gently urging them apart. When they were parted, she felt a single one of his fingers parting the hair of her delta and begin a light touching and stroking of her slit.

His gentle touch encouraged her to part her legs further and he increased the pressure of his finger, sliding it within the slit and parting the lips. She could feel the moisture flowing and his finger slid so easily up and down her slit, the labial petals separating to his touch. He spent more time on each stroke on the little nub of flesh at the top of her slit. Her head fell back and she sighed at the pleasurable sensations he was building in her. The heat seemed to be rising from her sex to her breasts, which he still fondled with his mouth, and up to her head, which spun from the delightful way his finger slid over and around her nub.

When his finger penetrated her, Ailene gasped. It went in just a tiny way, so it did not hurt, but the sense of being penetrated, even a little, was disquieting to her. Even when she’d touched herself, she hadn’t dared to penetrate herself. His finger lingered, slipping slowly in and out, sliding a wee bit deeper each time. She felt her wetness, the strange fluttery feeling that he incited in her. Still he laved her breasts, first one, then the other, his finger sliding wetly into her, causing her to pant at the strange feelings he evoked.

Soon it felt that he must have reached the end of his finger as it did not appear that it would penetrate farther. It was then she realized that he had reached her maidenhood and was pressing at the gates. Was this to be the time? His mouth left her breasts and he began kissing his way down her body, nipping and licking at her lower ribs and her belly, smoothly moving down her body with his mouth and tongue until he was licking and kissing the skin above the first hairs of her sex.

When he moved his head between her legs and kissed her sex, she started in surprise, sure that no one would want to put their mouth there.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Relax, this is a very enjoyable thing,“he replied. To emphasize his words, he continued his assault on the folds of her sex, while reaching up and stroking her breasts with his hand again.

Holy Mother of God, was he right. His tongue was laving her bud while his hands worked on her breasts. The feelings were incredible, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. The heat build up was indescribable; her breath was rapid, she panted like a dog. He penetrated her again with his finger, then another, rubbing the roof of her slick channel. Her pleasure peaked and she moaned as she experienced her orgasm, thrusting her hips up against his hand and fingers and his magic tongue. As soon as he was sure she was in the throes of her climax, he pushed his fingers roughly into her cunt, breaking her maidenhood. A quick burst of pain, almost lost in the pleasure, and it was over. She was a woman.

“It’s better this way,” Stuart said. “The pain is less while you are in the throes of passion, and when we finally consummate our marriage, it will feel good to you.”

“My Lord is kind,” she whispered, breathlessly. “I almost did not notice the pain for the pleasure you gave.”

“I will teach you to return the favor,” he replied. “You may now use your tongue on me.”

He lay back on the bed and his manly sword sprang up from the curls between his legs, his sack heavy and full, dangling toward the bed. She reached for it again, another drop of the slippery fluid gilding the tip. She felt it move in her fingers, wanting to spring more upright as she handled it. She leaned down and observed it more closely. The head was plum shaped and only a little less purple, split at the top with the slit from which the drop had come. She lowered her head and reached forth her tongue, tasting the tip. The little drop was nearly tasteless and as slick as the first, her tongue sliding easily in the fluid. The same applied to the skin she touched. Nor did it smell as she thought it might.

Stuart noticed the slight flaring of her nostrils and laughed.

“A good reason for taking frequent baths, don’t you think,” he said, smiling. “I find it so much more enjoyable to share myself in this way when I wash every day.”

Reassured that he was clean, she took a longer lick, from the base of his sizable rod to the top, where another clear drop was forming. She felt it swell in her hand and felt compelled to take the head in her mouth where she swirled her tongue around it. The increased swelling and the soft moans of her husband told her that she had done the right thing. So her mouth sank a little farther on his hard shaft and she felt it grow even more in her mouth. His hand tangled in her hair and he encouraged her to take more of his prick into her hot, soft and wet mouth. He felt her gag a little as the head reached her throat and he allowed her to slide back up so she could take a couple quick breaths before he motivated her to take him back in her mouth with a slight pressure on her head and another moan.

She found that she enjoyed feeling him swell and grow in her mouth and his moans of pleasure as her mouth slowly rose and fell on his swollen manhood. It gave her a feeling of power to know that she was slowly turning him into a big pile of porridge. His other hand grabbed the other side of her head and she felt him thrusting upward from the bed, though lightly so he wouldn’t choke her again. She took her free hand and fondled his sack, his balls rolling in her small hand. His thrusting became more urgent and quicker and she felt his balls draw up toward his stalk. On a whim, she sank as far as she could on his cock despite his release of her head and his quick protestations that he was about to cum. She felt the quick throbbing in his prick as a jet of his essence sprayed the back of her throat. A deep moan escaped him as he continued to spurt down her throat in increasingly diminishing amounts, his cock thrusting and pulsing with each surge. It was saltier, thicker, and not as slick as the clear fluid she’d licked earlier, but did not taste that bad; she was able to swallow it without much difficulty, only a small drop escaping her lips, which she wiped off with her fingers. His satisfied sighs rewarded her efforts and even though he began to shrink immediately afterward, he encouraged her continued oral ministrations and soon after, he began to swell in her mouth.

When hard again, he pulled her lips to his. He kissed her to a state of breathlessness, while his hands wandered freely over her body, stirring her again. When her breath had quickened, he knelt between her legs while spreading them wide and she felt his stiff cock at the entrance of her sex. He rubbed the tip of his cock in the moisture slicking her folds before pushing it in to just past the head. It was tight and thick, leaving her feeling full and spread, and she knew there was much more to squeeze into her. His mouth trailed down her neck, over the swell of her breasts before anchoring his lips on her puckered nipple. She gasped, and she felt him thrust another inch or two into her moist sex. She felt that she must burst at the pressure in her tight sheath, but by glancing down, she saw that he was less than halfway inside of her.

“I can help you,” he said. She felt his arms on either side of her legs lift them up and slide them over his shoulders. He leaned into her and his rigid shaft penetrated her to the root. If she was full before, now she was packed.

“Holy Mother of God!” She gasped. “I shall split in two.”

“Nae, lass. You’re merely tight. It will get better, I promise you.”

He held himself still, letting her body adjust to the fullness in her body. He listened to her breathing and when it evened out a little, he withdrew about half his length, then sliding back in. A small gasp was all that greeted this action, so he repeated it. She was wonderfully tight, her sheath sliding up and down his cock like a glove. His cock was touching wonderful places deep in her body with each thrust. Waiting until he felt her quickening breath, he began sliding out until he was nearly withdrawn, then plunging with greater force and rapidity back inside, his sack slapping against her upturned ass. The position of her body under him allowed him to rub her nub and reach deep inside her with each stroke and her heat was building up incrementally with each plunge. Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat and he felt her tight vaginal muscles pulling and milking at his prick as a flush descended to her breasts. Her nipples tightened, and her legs slid down his back and clutched at him, like she was trying to pull all of him within her body. She gave quick little halting gasps and he felt his cum rising from his balls and splashing into the liquid heat of her body in pulsating waves, moaning as he emptied his seed within her.

When he softened, he felt her squeezing him from her body and his cock fell out with a soft plop along with a few drops of their mixed juices which slid into the crease of her ass. He rolled from atop her body while they both gathered air into their lungs in quick gasps, their mutual release having drained their energy.

He turned toward her and lazily ran his hand up and down her body as far as his hand could reach without extending himself.

“Aye, that was some fine fucking, that was. I hope that you enjoyed it half as much as I did, love,” he said.

Panting, she replied, “It was better than I’d been led to believe by my mother.”

“Well I wanted it to be good; your first time and all. No point in it being painful when with a little effort and care, you can enjoy it as much as I do.”

“Oh husband, it was wonderful! Never have I felt such pleasure. Is it like this always?”

“It can be. It is certainly my goal to make it so with you.”

She reached out and grasped his limp prick, sticky with their combined juices.

“It may be a little while before the wee laddie is ready for more,” he said, smiling. “You’ve worked him over very well so far tonight. We should grab a little sleep while we’re able.”

She bent and kissed the tip of his cock and then snuggled into the crook of his arms. “I can hardly wait for the next time,” she whispered into his chest.

He smiled and pulled her closer, pulling the furs over them as the fire was starting to die down.

He woke to her sucking and licking at his rapidly rising cock. Twice more they consummated their marriage before the rising sun made them rise, once with him teaching her to ride him like a horse, and the last time with him mounting her from behind, like a dog. Each time was as wonderful as the first; her marriage already being more than she could have ever expected.

Since then, they’d done a lot of experimenting. He watched her as she pleasured herself to orgasm or she watched him, his essence squirting halfway up his body when he came. She’d used her hands, her breasts, her thighs and her mouth to give him pleasure in addition to her sex. He had fingered the tight entrance to her ass as his cock plundered her cunt from behind, making her squeal, but despite the alien feeling and oddness of it all, she’d come harder than she could remember cumming before, her sex just dripping with wetness when they were through. He told her that at some point, he would fuck her in the ass, which while shocked her, being totally foreign, but gave her a little shiver as well.

To picture his thick, stiff prick going up her ass both repelled and fascinated her. Repelled because it was strange that a man would want to put it there, but fascinating because of what his finger had done to her. The thought that she would then be surrendering all of herself to her beloved husband had a certain appeal to it, and she had enjoyed everything else that they had done together to the fullest.

As she lay there thinking about it, the hand caressing her breast left her stiff nipple and drifted down between her legs, joining the other hand already alternating between the nubbin of flesh at the top of her slit and slipping two fingers into her tight, wet sex. She took a little of the dampness gathered there onto her middle finger and moved it to the puckered entrance of her ass. She pushed the finger a bit into the opening and tried to imagine her husbands hard prick slowly expanding the tight orifice instead of her wee finger. As she visualized it, she got wetter, but it seemed an impossible thing to her that something so large could fit into something so small and tight. Nevertheless, she began to pant and moan as her pleasure peaked and she finally released on the fingers of her hand.

“My, my, what have we got here?” she heard a deep male voice saying behind her head.

Embarrassed, flustered and red faced, Ailene pushed down her skirts and grabbed the bodice of her shift together before standing and turning to face the voice.

“Don’t cover yourself up, lassie, we were both enjoying the view,” said another voice, even gruffer than the first and standing to the right of the first man.

Ailene was familiar with most of the men working for the Cameron’s, but she didn’t recognize either of these men. Both were rough and disreputable looking, clothes were ragged and dirty, as were the hands and faces of the wearers. The first had dirty brown hair, was pudgy, but not too soft looking, and the second man was balding and cadaverously thin. He had a thick black beard that looked to have remnants of his last three or four meals in it.

“Who are you and what do you want?” She asked.

“We’re just a couple of lonely men who haven’t been with a woman for awhile, and you look like you’re a little lonely yourself, lassie,” the first man replied.

“Nae,” she said, backing slowly from the men while pulling her bodice together more tightly, “tis just I was thinking of my husband with fondness. I’m lonely nary at all.”

Both men kept advancing and the second one said, “Aye, well you may be getting sufficient fucking lass, but it’s been a long time since I sank my cock into anything as bonnie as you,” grabbing the aforementioned appendage as he approached.

Ailene turned to flee but her heavy dress slowed her and she hadn’t taken 5 steps before a hand grabbed the back of her stays and pulled her to the ground. Before she could rise to her feet again, a heavy body was on her, pinning her to the ground, knocking the wind from her. The heavy-set man approached her from her head and seized her arms. He knelt on her hands and his grubby, dirty fingers pulled apart her stays and squeezed and twisted her bare breasts.

“Stop it, you animals, I’m the wife of Stuart Cameron, on whose land you’re currently trespassing!” she screamed in fury, twisting and turning to escape and avoid the hands tearing at her tender breasts.

The thin one was now kneeling on either side of her waist and while he kept an eye on the breast mauling his compatriot was delivering to those luscious globes, he reached behind him and grasped the bottom of her dress and started pulling it up her legs. “What care we whose land we’re trespassing on,” he said, “we’re outlaws anyway and can expect nothing less than a noose if we’re caught. What’s one more crime like rape?”

Ailene knew then that she could expect nothing less from these two beasts. She squirmed and kicked harder in an attempt to get him off of her. When she opened her mouth to scream, he shoved a piece of filthy cloth in her mouth. While her efforts did nothing to remove either of them, it was making it more difficult to do what they wanted.

“Grab the rope from the pack,” the dirty bearded one told chubby. “I’ll hold her down until you’re back.”

He grabbed her hands and slid his hips down her legs to reduce the amount of kicking she could do. Without the leverage of her feet upon the ground, her squirming and struggling did nothing to remove the man, who was stronger than his gaunt appearance would indicate. He leaned down and tried to kiss her. His teeth were broken and ragged and his breath stunk of God knew what and she twisted away from him, only to have him slobbering against her neck, licking and kissing from her ear to her shoulder. Shortly after, she felt his broken teeth gnawing on her right nipple, the sharp edges causing even more pain to her already tender bosom. Chubby soon returned with the rope and wrapping it several times around her wrists, tied her hands above her head to a sturdy bush.

“That should do it,” dirty beard said. “You can hold her legs while I fuck her, then I’ll hold them while you fuck her.”

“Why should you get to have her first,” chubby said. “I saw her first. On top of which, I’m thinking I’d like to fuck her mouth whilst you fuck her cunt.”

“Well then, tie her legs. Spread them good so we have access to her cunt,” dirty beard said.

Ailene’s struggles thus far had done nothing but to tire her out. She was panting from her exertions, but when she felt chubby tie a loop around her right leg and stretch it toward the tree, she renewed her kicking, hoping against hope that she could stop or even delay the rape that she knew was coming. Despite her efforts, her leg was soon secured to the tree and then another length was looped around her left ankle and pulled taut and attached to a peg he drove into the soft ground. She now lay with her legs splayed widely, and with her arms stretched out over her head. Her breasts were bare, her dress was up over her knees and dirty beard was pulling it up to her waist, lifting her hips to slide it under her ass, baring her sex to the two men. They also panted a little from their struggles with her, but now they could stand and leisurely examine their prize.

Nice breasts, not overly large, but nice, still sitting high on her chest, auburn hair, a few leaves and small twigs stuck in her hair from her rolling around on the ground. Her waist was nicely narrow, swelling to lovely hips and smooth, white thighs. The hair at her delta was a little darker than her head, with fewer highlights. Chubby undid his breeches and pulled his erection out. It was short and stubby, not much more than 5 inches in length, even erect. Dirty beard also undid his breeks, but dropped them to his ankles, his legs and ass as skinny and bony as the rest of him. His erection had more meat than the entire rest of his body, it seemed, and had a bend to the left.

Chubby knelt down next to Ailene’s head and waved his little pecker at her face.

“I know that you’ll be thinking of biting me when I put this in your mouth, lass, and I want you to rethink that right now. If I feel any teeth, I don’t have any problem knocking them all from your mouth. Tis only a rape, and you can survive if you don’t do anything stupid,” Chubby said. “No sense in dying for a little fucking. Nor do I want any yelling. We can do this while you’re unconscious, if you have any thought of screaming. We know how close the Keep is and we don’t want anyone interrupting our fun.”

He grasped the cloth sticking from her mouth and asked, “We aren’t going to be having any problems now, are we lassie?” He waited until she slowly nodded before pulling it out.

While chubby was warning her against biting him, dirty beard was shoving first one finger, than two in her sex, wiggling the long, bony digits about in her sheath, which was still damp from the orgasm she’d given herself while dreaming of her husbands sweet lovemaking. To think that it would now be filled with dirty beard’s filthy cock was more than she could bear, and she began to sob quietly, the tears rolling swiftly down her cheeks. Chubby rubbed his smelly little prick on her lips and she turned away, disgusted by the smell. It seemed that neither chubby or dirty beard believed in the cleanliness practiced by her husband. He responded by taking her left tit and giving it a hard twist that made her gasp in pain.

“Open up, that’s a good girl,” he said, twisting her breast again.

She turned her head towards him and he shoved his cock past her lips; she nearly gagged on the rancid taste.

“Lick it lassie. I don’t think this will take long. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a lassie such as yourself,” chubby said.

While she began to swirl her tongue on his disgusting appendage, she felt dirty beard remove his fingers and she felt his meaty cock at the entrance of her sex. She expected to be penetrated at any moment, but it didn’t happen. She looked up and saw 6 inches of arrow sticking out of dirty beards chest and before she could draw another breath, chubby had a feather growing out of his head. They toppled sideways and she was elated that her mouth was finally free of chubby’s filthy prick. She saw Stuart and Frang running towards her and sobbed loudly, grateful that she was saved, and mortified that they were seeing her like this, trussed up and spread for her rape.

When Stuart searched for his wife at lunchtime, he was unable to find her. He checked with the head housekeeper and she was unaware of her whereabouts. The Captain of the Guard said that no one saddled a horse for her, nor had he sent any men to accompany her outside the gates of the Keep. He approached Thorburn and Frang and neither of them had seen her, but given that she didn’t appear to be within the Keep, Thorburn quickly sent several small parties of men out to look for her. He knew that Calum Blackthorne would like nothing more than to get hold of any one of the Camerons. Stuart couldn’t wait for the men to return with news and set out himself on his fastest horse, willing to storm the gates of hell himself if need be to find her. Frang saddled up and rode with him.

Stuart rushed about without thought or purpose, nearly ruining his horse as he ran from place to place, attempting to just cover as much ground as he could. Frang finally got him to stop, rest the horse, and think a bit about where she might have gone.

“Would she have gone to her family?” Frang asked.

“I don’t think so,” Stuart replied. “Her family is too far. She would nae have gone without proper guard. She’s nae so foolish as that.”

“Well then, you think she wouldn’t have gone far then? She would be fairly close to the Keep?” Frang suggested.

“Aye. Fairly close, else she would have taken a horse and guardsmen.”

“Given that you think the lass is fairly near, what would she be doing?” Frang said.

Stuart thought for a moment.

“She mentioned that she was running out of some of the medicinals and herbs that she keeps to treat the sickly.” He said.

“Since town is too far for her to go, where might she go for what she needs?” Frang asked.

“I know there’s a glade not too far from the Keep, surrounded closely by trees, where I know that she can find most of the plants that she uses,” Stuart replied. “She may have gone there. Close enough to the Keep that she may have felt safe. It’s about 5 minutes from here if we ride fast.”

“Lead on.”

When they arrived at the glade, the brush and trees were thick enough they had to abandon their horses and Stuart led Frang through the dense brush until they came to the clearing it encircled. There was his wife staked out with one man fucking her mouth and another either penetrating his wife’s sex or about too. He quickly loosed an arrow at that bastard while Frang loosed his at the one in her mouth.

Both of them toppled over, dead instantly. Frang offered his cloak and politely turned away while Stuart undid her ropes and closed the cloak around her. Ailene continued to sob, so close was her rescue to her permanent degradation and dishonor. Even now, she felt unclean and diseased and wondered how her husband could possibly love her again. He finished untying her and wrapped in the cloak and his arms, he hugged her close.

“Did the bastards rape you, dear?” He whispered. “Did they penetrate you?” He urged.

“Nae husband, they were about to, but you stopped them before they could finish the deed. It was pretty much as you saw when you arrived, except the skinny one had pushed his fingers into me, and they pawed my breasts before you came. They’d just finished the tying so I would nae struggle so much.” She clutched him harder. “Can you ever forgive me, love, after those filthy beasts touched and mauled me? Can you touch me again? Or will you hate me and refuse to love me because I’ve been soiled by those two?”

“I’ll always love you, Ailene. I can’t help myself. There will be consequences though, for leaving the Keep without telling anyone and not going out with guards. It was expressly forbidden by Thorburn, Laird of the Keep, and by myself.”

“What consequences, husband?” She asked.

“You’ll know soon enough, my love.”