Box Set: Highland Flings: Scottish Historical Victorian Romance Taboo BDSM Erotica (5 page)

Once the Duke was standing beside me, I heard my father began to speak the words I had heard him speak so many times before. Except now he was speaking them to me! ‘Dearly beloved…’ he began. The Duke, instead of keeping his eyes on my father, as was custom, kept his eyes firmly trained on me as the words were spoken. Or, more correctly, he kept them upon my bosom.

‘I require an’ charge yer both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed…’
continued my father, in the most solemn voice I had ever heard him use. It was such a strange affair, to behold my father reading these words aloud to
me
, that I quite forgot to listen to the content, until suddenly I grew aware that he was questioning me.
 

‘Wilt thou obey ‘im, and serve ‘im…?’ asked my father.

I looked up at the Duke, who cast me a dark, piercing look, and then I looked at my father, swallowed, and nodded.

Eventually, my father pronounced myself and the Duke man and wife, and told the Duke that he may now kiss me, should he so wish. The Duke firmly shook his head, and asked my father for the manacles he had commissioned him to make last night.
 

My father proudly retrieved them, and them held them out for the Duke to inspect. ‘Unbreakable,’ he said.

The Duke was standing in front of my in such a way that I hadn’t yet seen these mysterious objects, but when he turned and showed them to me, I realised immediately, with a terrible dread, what these objects were. Another thing about Gretna Green that I haven’t told you that, is that occasionally we get policemen travelling through the village, carrying with them carriages of criminals that they are taking up to prison in Edinburgh, when the prisons in the north of England are too crowded. And I have many times before seen what they were wearing, but never known their name, until now.
Manacles
.

No sooner had I realised what they were, than the Duke had grabbed my wrist towards him, and shackled me into the iron wrings, my hands chained together like a wretched criminal. I looked pleadingly at my father, but he had turned his back, counting out his purse of money.

Without saying a word to me, my new husband ushered me along the path, away from my home, and, as if he was herding a cow to slaughter, he ushered me into his carriage, and then I heard the whip of the carriage boys’ whip, and we drove off, south of the border, for my first foray into England, as the Duke of Leamington’s prisoner bride.

The carriage ride down to Leamington was bumpy, and the Duke said little to me, except phrases such as ‘sit still’, ‘be good’, and ‘silence please’, if I ever tried to talk. I know not how, but I sensed, somehow, that he wanted to touch me. His eyes did not stray to the pleasant English countryside once, but instead stayed on me and my bosom, as they had done during our entire acquaintance so far.

We stopped at once point for the carriage boy to feed water to the horses, and I heard the Duke breathing heavily beside me, his hands moving in his lap, but I did not dare look
down there
, for I had seen only one man between the legs and that was my father, and it was quite, quite terrifying.

Eventually, after many hours, during which I had been jostled around so much that my precious little sex had grown quite sore from being bumped around so much, we reached Leamington. And when I say that we reached Leamington, that does not quite give justice to the place that we arrived. For it was a palace!

The outside was built of some white stone that I had never seen, that looked heavenly, like something I might have seen in my father’s Bible. There were far more than two storeys, too! The enormous erection went four, five, six storeys up… I stuck my head out of the carriage and counted them myself!

‘Goodness…’ I breathed, wondering whether I could forgive my husband his… eccentricities… if I was to live in a place like this.

He herded me inside, then, once we were inside of the house, welcomed in by an old butler, and a doddering maidservant, who barely seemed to register the manacles upon my person, then he ushered me upstairs. When I reached the top of the stairs, I became aware that he was standing close behind me, and could feel his breath on my neck.
 

‘Which way, sir,’ I asked timidly, ‘to my chamber?’

Behind me, the Duke laughed.
 
‘
Your
chamber,’ he laughed. ‘It is
my chamber
, you wicked wench, and it always will be.’ He pushed me forwards, almost tripping me over my own feet, and then guided me to a door on the right.

Inside, I was so shocked and astounded by the palatial chamber that awaited me that I almost backed away from it instinctively, as it I had touched hot coals. ‘Goodness…’ I breathed again.

‘You are to come over to the bed now,’ said the Duke, authoritatively, ‘and I am to make you my bride.’

I followed him over to the incredible four-poster bed, which appeared something like ten times the size of my bed back at the blacksmith’s house. He took me by the wrists, and then lifted the chain between my wrists into the air, pushing it against one of the pillars of the four poster bed. I realised that there was a small slit in this pillar, and that the chain was slipping between them, so that, when the chain fell, I was attached to the pillar, shackled to it, with no means of escape.

‘Get on the bed,’ said the Duke, ‘and let’s see what sort of animal my bride turns out to be.’

I climbed into the bed, my arms out in front of me, chained to the bedpost, pushing my breasts down onto the mattress, and my buttocks high up into the air.
 

‘On all fours,’ said the Duke, behind me, his breath heavy once more.

I heard him removing his shoes, and heard the gold buckles hitting the floor with a thud. Then I heard him undoing the golden buttons on his jacket, and I got onto my hands and knees, wondering if this was the position that people normally… consummated in.

‘That’s it,’ said the Duke, his voice a little softer, as if he was warming to me a little now that he could see how compliant I was being. ‘Good little wench,’ he said, his hands suddenly either side of my buttocks, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me back, a little closer to him.

I felt his hands, then, exploring my underbelly, as if I was a cow and he was seeking out my udders, to milk me, and soon enough he happened upon my plentiful breasts, pulling the bodice of my dress drown with a sharp tug, ripping the fabric, so that my breasts tumbled free, my nipples hanging low on the mattress, the fat flesh of my bosom hanging heavily beneath me. The Duke’s fingers found my nipples, giving each one a hard squeeze, tweaking them this way and that, his fingernails pushing into me, making me squirm, but causing bolts of lightning to shoot from my breasts down to my navel at the same time. Lightning that was almost… pleasurable.

‘That’s it, my little animal,’ he said, heaving me moan. ‘You can make noises if you like, little animal,’ he said. ‘But no words.’

I must confess that this is not as terrible as it sounds, reader. I knew not how human beings consummated their marriage, having never had any information on such things, and to be perfectly honest, I confess that I had been surprised, so far, at how easy it was proving to be. My worry had been that I would have to
do
things, not have things done to me. I worried that I would do those things badly, and would displease my husband, making him cast me out and seek out a more welcome woman in my place.

Having my nipples tweaked and being called an ‘animal’ was, in fact, making that soft little place between my legs begin to tingle. And for that reason, I think, my new husband was being rather good to me.

Suddenly, at that moment, I felt a smack upon my backside, and then the skirts of my dress lifted up, and I could feel the cool air on my arse. Being a poor country girl, I had no other undergarments in addition to the underskirt, so I could feel the air on my sex too, and it was so cool, at first, that I almost wondered whether the Duke was blowing on it… But then I felt another smack upon my backside, and it was so hard, and such a shock, that it caused me to groan.

‘Groan, you animal,’ said the Duke, smacking me again. ‘The naive little blacksmith’s daughter needs to learn who rules this house,’ said the Duke. ‘And when the Duke feels that she understands this, he’ll give her a special gift in return.’ He smacked me again, and I almost bit down on the wooden slat at the end of the bed.

‘I will obey you, sir,’ I breathed, my backside glowing with pain, causing ripples of heat to spread out from my buttocks, to between my thighs, and then in and around my virgin sex. The heat felt good. It felt as though the Duke was setting me on fire, and my sex was ablaze for him. I even felt it beginning to melt a little, and felt the molten juice from my sex begin to drip, like warm candle wax, between my thighs.

‘The little animal understands,’ the Duke said behind me, satisfied, and I heard him removing his belt, and wondered whether he was about to lash me with it, as my father had done when I was a young girl.

But instead, I became aware of the smell of something unfamiliar, and then I felt something warm and smooth, pressing the top of my thighs, then nudging at my arsehole, then, as if it changed its mind, it began pushing at the entrance to my inflamed sex. I felt the juices from my sex run onto the smooth object, which I had surmised by now, must be the Duke’s meat, and I coated the meat in gravy, as it were, then felt it pushing against my delicate skin, and bursting into me.
 

I had been expecting it to hurt, and wondered whether I was bleeding, but I was feeling too enraptured at this new sensation to spend too long worrying over such trifles. I felt a hot, prickling warmth spreading inside my entire body now, my inner thighs, the tips of my toes, my underarms, my bosom. I felt as though the entirety of me were crackling now, like a pressure was building up inside me and I was about to crack open. I was like a river, about to burst its banks, or…

My goodness! It felt so good, having this thing inside me, taking up this space that had up until now been unfilled, that I could not help myself from pressing back into it, rubbing my sex up and down the length of it, feeling my muscles tighten around it, taking it further and further inside me, the wetter and more excited I got.

‘A frisky little creature!’ the Duke laughed as I rubbed myself against him. ‘I thought as much.’

Suddenly, he grabbed hold of me, and pushed my body prostrate onto the mattress, my manacled arms sliding out in front of me, the iron casts my father had made not twelve hours ago, pressing into my skin. My belly and breasts were now pushed down into the mattress beneath me, and I felt the full weight of the Duke’s body, pressing down onto me. His shirt was undone, but still on his torso, and the buttons pressed into the soft skin of my back, making impressions in the surface of me, as he pushed his body down on me, grinding his meat into my fragile little sex.

‘Sir!’ I gasped.

’That is correct,’ he said, panting a little. ‘I’m your sir, and you shall obey me.’

‘I shall!’ I gasped. ‘I shall obey you always!’

‘Good girl,’ he said, and pushed his meat as far into me as it would go, his hands reaching beneath me and grabbing my breasts as though they were the most sumptuous fruits he had ever tasted, and he wanted to squeeze out every last drop of their delicious juice…

‘Tell me you shall obey me again,’ growled the Duke, this face beside my ear now, his breath on my cheek. ‘Tell me you are a common little farm girl, and I am your Lord.’

‘You are my Lord!’ I gasped. ‘And I shall obey you!’

At the sound of my panting decree, the Duke groan in ecstasy, his meat seeming to swell in size, and then I felt it throbbing, spasming inside my sex, until finally, my husband collapsed on top of me.

‘You are filthier and more wonderful than I could ever have imagined,’ he said softly into my ear, and then pulled my cheek towards him and kissed me on the lips with a burning hot, thirsty passion.

And this is where I have been the past three months, dear reader, in this palace in the place they call Royal Leamington Spa. My Duke has not let me leave the premises yet, but I am assured there is a splendid town just miles from where we stay. But I must confess, and this is a shocking truth, I know, but I have not once even so much as yearned to set foot out of doors.

I spend my days under the education of my faithful Duke, who has neglected his hunting duties and tells me he has hunted the most exciting creature of all, and no longer has need of pheasants and game, when I am game enough. Some days he sets me free of the manacles and has the servants bathe me, and those days I bask in the glow of my slightly swelling belly, and the feeling of warmth and gratitude I have to my Duke for bringing me here.

Other days, he ties me to the bedpost, or to a rack meant for hanging meat down in the depths of his cellar. On special occasions, he does not tie me to anything at all, but brings out his riding crop and rides on top of me like his dirty little horse. On other days I’m his cow, and he pulls at my udders, trying to draw out the milk that I know is not long now coming.

But I am probably telling you too much. The Duke says stick to the sights, sounds and smells, to bring the story to life. So I will tell you only this: the sight I am currently witnessing is the maidservant, washing my Duke’s meat as he stands watching me write this letter, reading out choice sections to him, making his meat nice and hard and big, giving the maidservant a juicy treat. The sounds I am witnessing are the soft moans of my husband as the maidservant’s sponge touches his skin, as well as the scratch of my quill upon this parchment. And the smells… they are no longer the same smells I used to smell. I smell of lilies, of roses, of fresh violets and soap… but there is still something there on my skin. Something that will always make me smell like me: the blacksmith’s daughter.

PART THREE