Box Set: Highland Flings: Scottish Historical Victorian Romance Taboo BDSM Erotica (7 page)

‘Thank ye, and I apologise for the coarseness of my questions.’ Then, he turned and left my room. I didnae hear anything from the Laird for a month.

When the letter finally came that I had been accepted as the new Lady of Elgin, my father’s reaction was rather more positive than mine.

‘Och, that’s braw!’ my father cried, holding the letter above his head like a trophy, ‘Finally, ye’ve done somethin’ good, lassie. Well done!’ I didnae know whether I should feel good about the way my father spoke to me, but I decided to take what little praise I could get.

With a wee bit of help from the house servants, I was packed and ready to go in next to no time. I couldnae believe how quickly my life was changing. All I had to look forward to now was the Laird’s odd way of talking and a strange, loveless marriage.
 

Of course, I thought a lot of having to lie with the Laird. He was older than me, and I had almost no experience of being with the opposite sex whatsoever. From time to time I found myself thinking of his… sausage. What would it be like? Would he expect me to open up to him straight away? I found the thought of fitting something so big into my tender wee opening to be quite terrifying. Of course I had touched myself there on several occasions, despite the teachings of our chaplain, who was adamant that onanism was a direct route to fire and brimstone.

I’d never gotten much from it, to be quite truthful, and any time I’d ever felt the stirrings of arousal in myself, I’d felt so guilty that I’d had to stop my hand, and think of something to take my mind off matters.

The trip by carriage to Elgin was a long and arduous one, via Perth and up the east coast, with plenty of time for me to become anxious, wring my hands together in fear, fall asleep, worry again about my fate and sleep once more. Finally, after what seemed like days, we arrived at the grounds of the Laird’s house. The carriage boy helped my out from the back of the cab, and I stepped my first footstep onto the grounds of my new home.

It was grand. Grander than anywhere I’d ever been before. The house itself, quite some walk from the front drive, was positively palatial, and must have had individual wings, as well as guest accommodation and banqueting halls. It was built from gleaming white sandstone, and had huge, gold rimmed windows, the glazing of which must have cost a fortune. As I was looking at the house, a figure emerged from the front door. It wasnae the Laird, no this was definitely a woman, a short, rather plump-looking creature, who bustled her way down the front path.

‘Come on, young Caitlin, you’re awful late, an’ the Laird has been waiting eagerly for yer arrival!’ She had a rather rough sounding voice. ‘I’m Agnes, the housekeeper. I’ll be looking after ye from now on. Come on, we have to get you in to the hall. The Laird’s waitin’ for ye, come now, come,’ she said, and she took hold of my arm with an iron-like strength, before virtually dragging me up the entrance path, all the way into the house.

She pulled me to the right, after we got in, and I barely had time to take in the opulence and wealth of the surroundings. I knew that the Laird was wealthy, of course, but I hadnae expected this level of splendour. There were huge portraits of the Laird everywhere, with intricate, gold-plated frames. Priceless vases and other valuable trinkets adorned every surface. This was truly the most exquisite house I’d ever set foot in. It was almost a castle! And now it was mine, I suppose… Agnes dragged me through a doorway into a vast space. And there, sitting across the room from me, was the Laird.

This place almost felt like a kind of throne room. The Laird sat, up a few steps on a small stage at the far end. There was a stag’s head hanging over his head, and a red carpet, which ran all the way up the middle of the room and ended underneath his seat. The Laird was dressed in his full regalia, with high, broad golden shoulder-pads crowning each side of his smart navy jacket, a fine, thick, red tartan kilt, and a pair of the most polished brogues I’d ever seen adorning his feet.

‘Finally,’ he said. His voice was as rough and deep as I’d remembered from his inspection, and he seemed even more confident now that we were in his domain. ‘Come!’ He commanded me forward, and I started the way up towards his seat. I felt terrified in his presence, and as I slowly took the long walk up to him, he started to talk to me.

‘Before I can welcome ye into my hoose, I’m afeart that we have the small matter of yer punishment to discuss. Do ye really think that the way ye acted when I came to meet with ye was appropriate? I gave ye direct instructions to wear the dress that I graciously bought for ye, out of my own pocket, so that ye’d feel comfortable in my presence. However, ye disobeyed me, yer new husband. Is that the way that wee lassies are meant to act?’

I was so close to him now that I could almost smell him, his regal, masculine scent.

‘No, your excellency,’ I said, my voice trembling with fear.

‘That’s quite right. Now, I am afeart that I am going to have to punish you. It’s for your own sake, Caitlin.’ When he said my name, he moved his legs so that they were slightly apart from each other. I wondered, if I bent down a touch, if I might be able to see his sausage poking between his thighs… But of course I didnae dare do any such thing.

He lightly tapped his knee with an open palm. ‘Come here. Come and lay across my lap.’

I hesitated for a moment. Was this really happening? Was he really going to make me lie across his lap and then, was he really going to skelp me? A horrible thought ran through my mind - I hadnae worn any undergarments for the trip! I was quite nude beneath my large dress - I found it much more comfortable to have my underparts in the open air, but, if he were to lift my skirts before smacking me, he’d be able to see everything! My bahooky, my pubis, my wee quim. The thought made me panic and when I didnae move for a few moments he locked his grim eyes on mine.

‘Come here, right
noo
, and lie across my lap young lassie, before I lose all of my not inconsiderable patience!’

I could try to run, but the door might be locked and that frightful maid Agnes might stop me. Maybe it was for the best that I just take my punishment like a good lassie. I knew that I had been defying him by wearing a coat over my dress, and he was taking me in and looking after me, as well as providing for my family. Maybe it was right that I let him discipline me as he pleased.
 

Shaking with nerves, I walked up to the brute. As I was about to lay down on him, he took an elegant-looking, freshly-pressed white silken handkerchief from his top packet, and carefully laid it across his lap. ‘We dinnae want any of Madame’s juices to stain ma kilt, do we?’ he asked.
 

I’d never been asked such a vulgar question as this before, and I felt my cheeks start to burn red with embarrassment. I didnae know what to say, so I carefully laid myself across his lap. I felt almost immediately dizzy, as I’d arranged myself so that my head was quite low down and my behind was sticking straight up in the air. I couldnae see the Laird’s face, but I could have sworn that I heard the revolting sound of him licking his lips.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘it’s very important that ye understand the reason that this is happening. It’s not because I’m cruel, or that I hate ye, nothing could be further from the truth. I have,’ he said, as he started to lift my skirts and petticoat up my legs, ‘only your best interests at heart. I know that your father is a pathetic, wormlike creature, with no backbone whatsoever,’ he continued, revealing the backs of my gartered legs, and surely the merest hint of my bottom. ‘And in order to make a young woman strong and good, she must be taught that she cannae act in whatever way she likes, whenever she…’ He stopped short.
 

He had seen that I was wearing no underwear. I felt the a cold lick of a breeze on my bare bottom, I felt my tender, virginal quim totally open to the air.
 

‘My goodness, Caitlin, it seems that you’ve come quite prepared for our wee encounter here today,’ said the Laird, and then I felt his rough, coarse hand on my backside.

He began to stroke my flesh, pushing my buttocks away from the centre of my behind. He felt so strong, as though he could tear my flesh away from my bone should he so wish, but, for the moment at least, his movements were careful and considered.

‘Ye have quite an exceptional form, my dear. Quite exceptional. Ye’ve almost distracted me from my task.’ I felt my wee kitty being pushed down into the silk of the handkerchief beneath me, my lips squashing into the fine fabric as he rested a heavy hand on me.

‘Now, I’ve got the unhappy task of administering corporal punishment to yer backside, ma dear. I’m going to skelp yer bottom so hard that it turns red and is marked by my signet ring. That way ye’ll know that in future, ye must not disobey yer Laird.’

‘Och,’ I said, not thinking, ‘please sir, not that.’

‘Aye,’ he said, and I’m sure I heard cruel relish in his voice, ‘I’m afeart it’s my only recourse. Now, it’s imperative that you thank me after each and every slap, you hear? The punishment is ten slaps, but if you dinnae thank me, they willnae count.’ With a final squeeze of my buttock, I felt the Laird lift his hand away from my flesh, and then, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, I felt his heavy hand come skelping down onto me.

My mouth opened soundlessly and my eyes widened with the pain of the strike. Wee needles of red hot sensation spread out from his fingers across my flesh. I had not expected him to hit me so hard. Shocked, I remained silent.

‘Pardon me?’ said the Laird, ‘I didnae quite hear that. We’ll have to start all over again, I’m afeart. What a dreadful shame.’ Then, without any warning, he lifted his hand again and brought it down with a hard, snapping thwack sound on my bottom, even harder than before. I felt my flesh pucker underneath him, as my body struggled to react to the pain it was experiencing. I felt one part of my bottom sting even harder than the other - it must be from his signet ring. Quick, Caitlin, say something, I thought to myself.

‘Tha- thank ye, Laird,’ I panted, trying hard to concentrate through the shock.

‘Och, well done, dear. What a good lassie. Well, it was my pleasure.’ As he said
pleasure
, I’m sure I felt his sporran lift, and then I felt something poking me from his crotch. Was it his… My thoughts were broken by another skelp.

‘Thank ye, Laird,’ I said, as my whole body shifted forward with the power of the skelp. I closed my eyes and took the pain, as it radiated around my buttocks, and through my core, all the way around to my wee quim which shivered underneath me, so close to his rough hands.

Again he beat me, and again I thanked him for it, and with each following strike it became easier to say thank you, even though the pain became more and more severe. I could feel the flesh of my bottom swelling and reddening with each skelp as the Laird marked me, made me his. ‘Thank ye, thank ye, thank ye Laird,’ I said, and I knew that I was thanking him with sincerity, as now each skelp had started to make my pussy began to beat with pleasure, with anticipation. I knew he was looking at me there, because with each strike now he was pinching my buttocks and pushing them up so that he could see that secret wee place. I knew that I had started to glisten for him. Then, before I knew it, the ten skelps were up.
 

‘Och look,’ he said, ‘it seems like someone’s wee kitty is positively
seeping
with all this attention.’ I felt his fingers walking their way back along my rump and settle on the inside of my thighs. ‘I suppose for a bad lassie like ye, getting smacked on the behind must have made yer cunny-skin wet with lust.’ His fat fingers started to slowly stroke the lips of my Highland rose, smoothly stroking my sweet wee organ, causing even more nectar to spill from inside me, as I became entirely consumed with a burning passion.

‘Aye, Laird,’ I whispered, ‘please, my Laird.’ I could still feel the sting from his hand on my behind, and the memory of the pain mixed with the utter pleasure his hands began to gave me. His finger was the first part of anyone save me to enter the space between my legs, and his hooked, probing fingers discovered for the first time how soft it was inside me, how hot and how quivering my pussy was. He began to slide his thick, wide-knuckled digits into me while making wee deep groaning sounds. I could feel my wetness starting to coat his hands, as he now plunged two fingers inside me.

‘What a tight wee kitty,’ he murmured to himself, as he started to push harder, deeper into me. My body began twitching as he explored me, and with each confident pound of his fingers, I gave myself more and more to him, to his mastery, to his power, to his perversion. I now imagined him striking my behind again and again as his fingers stretched my flesh, then, suddenly, he moved his other hand to a space just above my opening, to what now felt the centre of my sexual power, and he began to wetly slide his fingers over a hard nub of flesh there. The pleasure, the surprise of it, was like flowers opening at the speed of light in my mind. I felt streaks of hot joy spread instantly over my body and then, black spots appeared in my vision as I began to buckle on top of him, and finally, without thinking, my mouth made a word that I’d never said before, and I exploded with pleasure, as my entire body stiffened and relaxed.

‘Fuck,’ I gasped, my body collapsing in joy over him.

‘My lassie has grown up,’ said the Laird, before wiping his soaking hand on my backside. ‘I look forward to our next meeting.’

I struggled to understand quite what had happened between the Laird and myself. Had he been angry with me? Had he wanted to somehow show that he owned me? Had he done what he’d done to me just for his own perverse pleasure, to show the power that he had over me?

After our encounter, the Laird had lifted me up, before placing me down on his chair, with my skirts now safely back down over my legs.

‘Wait here,’ he said, and within a few minutes, Agnes, the maid, had come to collect me. She took me up to my chambers, and because I was so shaky on my feet, I was slow to follow her up the stairs.