The sensation of being filled was potent, and orgasm was imminent. The only problem was…
“Don’t come,” a voice murmured in her ear.
“You’re not allowed to come,” another voice said.
Her bottom was still sore from being spanked, adding to the sense that she was not in control. The two men had been methodically building to this grand finale, and Callie felt so close. She moaned in the darkness as the two hard cocks, one in her pussy and one in her mouth, continued to penetrate her core.
“Please, sirs, please, may I come?” she begged, taking the cock out of her mouth.
“Does our naughty lass deserve to come so soon after her spanking?” This question always caught her off guard.
“Yes, sirs! I took my spanking! Oh, please?” she pleaded.
“All right then. Come for us, Callie, come while I fuck your pussy.”
“Come while I take your mouth.”
At the critical moment, just as she was about to come, her dream was interrupted by frantic shouting somewhere nearby.
Callie opened her eyes and saw the familiar wooden log walls of home, in the village where she’d lived all her life. Outside, there was a lot of commotion. Frustration turned to vigilance as she realized something was amiss; the village was usually fairly quiet in the mornings. Callie sat up and scraped her russet brown hair out of her face, where it preferred to be, and into a bun, where she preferred it to be. She crawled to the front window and saw people running in every direction, screaming.
“The English are here!” someone shrieked. The idea of an English invasion in this quiet Highland village had loomed for years, but Callie had never really been ready for it. She knew she had to avoid the soldiers, if they were even here, but she couldn’t see any yet. Avoiding the main entrance, where all the commotion was happening, she tried to plan an escape route.
The back window was clear, so she swiftly climbed out and hid behind a haystack as the English in their proud red coats came to her village. The crisp scent of the golden hay was intoxicating and her half-asleep brain tried to convince her to just climb into the soft dried grass and return to slumber, but she pinched the back of her neck to force herself to stay alert. This was no time to rest, when the soldiers were maybe fifty feet away. They looked terrifying, with their unfamiliar weapons and bright red coats. Callie wondered why they’d chosen today of all days to turn up here.
The pretense, well known from survivors of other villages where the same thing had happened, was that they were searching for Bonnie Prince Charlie but everyone knew they really just wanted to clear the land to give to the English and Lowlander nobles.
The men had been working on the lands around the village, and had been easy prey. They were all rounded up now, or dead. Nobody knew where they took the Highlanders after they’d captured them. Some people said they shipped them abroad to distant lands, others said they were all locked up in the Tower of London. Callie’s limbs went weak at the thought.
She watched the men manhandle one of her friends, dragging her away along with the other women. It was a good thing her parents hadn’t lived to see this day. The village had been home for generations of her family.
She watched as a young boy, barely a child, tried to fight, but an English soldier just cuffed him away, returning him to the group of captives, as they set fire to the empty log homes of the village.
Callie was terrified. She waited until the soldiers were walking away, the flames edging closer to her hiding place, smoke stinging her eyes, then she turned and fled.
A shout came from one of the soldiers, but Callie couldn’t make out the spiky foreign words they spoke. She only spoke a smattering of Scots, the language of the lowlands, but she was fluent in Gaelic, the voice of her homeland. English sounded like an indistinctive murmur to her ears, punctuated with prickly, strange sounds that her own tongue did not use. At a guess, she thought they were probably shouting because they had noticed her.
Desperate to escape, Callie focused all her energy into running as fast as she could.
Another soldier said something else in the strange English tongue, and the footsteps behind her fell away. They must have decided she wasn’t worth the trouble.
Callie just kept running, too afraid to look back and see whether they were pursuing or not. Her bare feet squished into the brightly colored heathers of the Scottish moors and her knees skinned against thistle leaves as she sought to evade the English soldiers.
Soon she was too out of breath to run any longer, and she collapsed against a rock beside a stream. Looking around, she saw a distant castle, surrounded by nothing but hills for miles in any direction.
The sun was getting lower in the sky and as Callie gulped life-giving water from the stream, she wondered whether she should have stayed with her village. But nobody knew what happened to the captives, and her mother had told her from a young age that if the soldiers ever came, she was to run as fast as she could, to never look back, to get away. On her mother’s deathbed, thirteen years ago, Callie had promised her earnestly once again that she would run if the soldiers came to the village. Callie did not go back on promises.
In the wilderness of the northern Highlands, she felt very exposed. All she wore was a brown dress made of wool, now torn in a couple of places from her haste to escape. Her feet were cut and bleeding, and she felt the tiredness of a lifetime, despite only being nineteen.
Aside from hills, the castle was the only feature in this barren, empty landscape, so Callie began to walk toward it.
By the time she arrived at the castle, the sun seemed to be setting, and there was nobody around. It must have been twenty miles from her village, and she wondered if anyone lived there. Perhaps it was a ruin, deserted by its laird in the struggle to keep Scotland free. She found a bed of hay in a stable and fell upon it; her feet ached and stung and, now that she had no pressing issues of survival, she found herself beginning to cry. The day’s fears and the doubts caught up with her.
Central to it all, she felt angry at the English for their callousness. Who were they to say that Scotland was theirs? How dare they take the lands that had belonged to the Gaelic Highlanders since time immemorial? And those turncoat lowlanders, aiding and abetting the invaders; she had nothing but contempt for them, for the English, and for the weak clan leaders who were capitulating right, left, and center. The anger kept her awake despite her exhaustion and she did not sleep until the night had passed and the cold grey morning light was visible through the stable door.
“Hey. Hey! Look, you’ve got to wake up now!” A man’s voice drifted in and out of focus as Callie snuggled down into the warm hay.
“Just another wee while, pal,” she said, thinking it was one of her friends trying to wake her.
The next thing she knew, a strong hand had firmly gripped her arm and was dragging her upright. Blearily she opened her eyes and stared wildly around her. Where was she? She looked at the man holding her, and tried to pull loose but his grip was too tight.
He was at least six feet tall, broad shouldered, with a lion’s mane of flame red hair and a long beard, the tips of which were sun-bleached to the color of straw. He couldn’t have been older than thirty, but his eyes, the same color of blue as his tartan kilt, said he was shrewder than he ought to be for his age. Callie knew she was looking at someone important.
“Aye, we’ve got a wild one here all right,” he said. “What’s a snip of a wee lass like you doing in my stable?”
“I just needed a sleep like,” she said insolently. “I’m not hurting no one.”
“I never said you were. All the same, this is my stable and you didn’t knock on my front door now, did you?”
“I thought the place were empty,” Callie said. “I’ll be on my way for now.”
“No. You look like you’ve been having a bad time. The least you can do is stay for a wee bite to eat,” he said. “I’ll not take no for an answer.”
It was the height of rudeness to refuse someone’s hospitality—or misuse it, as Clan Campbell had found out at Glencoe, she remembered—so Callie felt she had to accept. A hand propelled her into the castle’s courtyard. The rest of the castle was arranged in a square around it, and the enormous stranger led her up a set of steep stone steps. At the top, she was in a room with an enormous hearth.
“Is this where you live?” she asked.
“Heh, it’s a part of it. This whole castle’s mine. I’m Andrew, laird of Clan MacKinnon,” he said. Callie had known he was someone important by the way he’d carried himself, but the idea that he was a laird with his own castle was sobering. There must be a village nearby too, and probably a lot of land around it. Her knees began to buckle. She hoped she hadn’t offended him.
“I’m Callie. It’s short for Callodina, sir. I was lately from Clan Caladh. Please, sir, I’m really sorry that I slept in yon barn. If you’ll just send me on my way, you’ll never hear no trouble from me, I swear,” she said fearfully.
“Why would I want to do that? You’ve intrigued me, lass,” he said. “Sit here and I’ll find you a bite, as I said. You’re so thin, you look like you’d slip twixt the gap in my front teeth! And I don’t have a gap in my front teeth!”
Not wanting to invoke the ire of a laird, Callie sat where she was told and decided that at least she could get something to eat before she set off for somewhere she could start a new life.
“Here, get this down your neck.” He put a bowl on the table before her, with a small polished wooden spoon. The bowl was filled with porridge, and Callie fell upon it eagerly, suddenly very aware that she hadn’t eaten for days. Perhaps even weeks. No, she scolded herself, it was only two days ago that she’d sat down with her friends and shared a meal of hearty broth and freshly made oatcakes. Oatcakes were Callie’s specialty.
As she ate her porridge, she was very aware that the laird was watching her; every time she glanced up from under her lashes, she could see his intense gaze. His face was achingly handsome. A quick glance told her his nose was straight but wide and not too long. His chin looked very strong because of his thick beard, but she suspected that underneath it was probably of normal proportions. His hands, however, were a different matter entirely. They were huge, with thick fingers that tapered. When she looked at them, she imagined sucking them, feeling them massage her body—maybe even feeling them inside her. She shook her head and tried to concentrate on eating.
“Thank you, sir,” she said once the last spoonful was swallowed. “I’m most grateful. Can I be off now?”
“Where are you bound?” he asked her.
She colored red. “I dunno,” she said, because it was the truth—she really did not know where she was headed but she had to get as far away from the English as she could.
“Then how do you know which direction to take?” he asked her.
“I s’pose I don’t,” she replied, feeling lost and alone.
“What happened to you?” he asked gently, sitting down beside her. Where he lightly stroked her bare arm, she felt the skin tingle.
Her brave front crumbled at the kindness, and she began to cry, with ungainly, heaving sobs of woe. “I was just waking up,” she began, “when the soldiers came. They got everyone out of their houses, well, the women and kiddies—they surprised the men while they were farming. Nobody could stand up to ‘em. I hid while they took everyone away and set the village aflame. When I thought it was safe, I just ran and ran, until I couldn’t run no more, then I walked, and when I couldn’t walk, I stopped at your castle,” Callie said. “So I dunno where I’m going, but that’s where I’ve been. Please don’t let the soldiers take me!”
“The Highland clearances,” Laird Andrew said grimly. “That butcher Cumberland has finally reached this far north. I was hoping they’d turn back at Fort Augustus or Inverness and we’d be spared.”
“Clearances? More like wholesale theft of our lands! My fam’ly’s been in that same village since Adam and Eve!” Callie cried. “This is no clearance, it’s theft!”
She stood up, her eyes aflame with fury. “I’ll not let them take me away from my homeland! I’m never leavin’ the Highlands!” she cried. “I’d rather die!”
Looking around the room, she felt her agitation subsiding when she saw there were no soldiers there.
“Calm yourself, lass,” the laird said gently. “They’ll regret it mightily if they try to take my ancestral lands. It sounds like you’ve no place to go? You ought to stay here.”
Somehow, Callie felt like she could trust this giant laird; she already felt safe around him.
“If it’s no bother?” she asked.
“Not at all. Can you cook?” he asked.
“Yes, I can. Why?” she asked.
“I’ve a vacancy for a skilled cook—mine’s just had to move to Aberdeen to look after a sick relative. If you can turn a spit and turn out an oatcake you’ll be most welcome here,” Andrew said. Callie bowed her head in deference.
“Thank ye most kindly, laird,” she said.
“In the meantime, you need a bath. Follow me.” He led her deeper into the kitchen, where to her great surprise he pulled a five-foot-long metal basin down from the wall and tipped some hot water into it from a large cauldron in the hearth. He added some cold water from a pail and, to her greater surprise, he pulled her woolen dress up over her head so she stood naked before him. So this was his game! Instead of covering her modesty, she balled her fists and crouched ready to head-butt him.
“I’ll nut you in the goolies if you try anythin’!” she said fiercely.
“Right, let’s get some rules out of the way,” he said casually as he lifted her with no apparent effort and deposited her unceremoniously in the bathtub. “Number one,” he said as he took a ceramic jug and filled it with water. “You do as I say, when I say to do it.”
She spluttered as the water was poured over her head, drenching her.
“Number two,” he said, filling the jug again. “You don’t threaten me or lie to me.” He poured the water over her head again, and she reflected that it actually felt quite nice, aside from it getting into her eyes and nose. She could see the dirt running into the water from her hair. It was the strangest wash she’d ever had, but she thought it was more enjoyable than the cold river she usually bathed in.
“Number three, you are to address me as sir or by my title at all times. I’ll not have the English thinking I’m soft!” he said, wetting her hair again. She reveled in the feeling of his large, strong fingers running through her wet hair, detangling it and pulling bits of leaves and hay out.
“If you break my rules, you’ll get a good spanking. I’ll tan your hide and make no mistake about it,” he said evenly. “Do you understand me?”
She nodded her head distractedly. While he washed her hair, she felt so cared for; her vulnerability at being naked was replaced with a feeling of safety.
“I said, do you understand me?” he asked again.
“Y-yes, sir,” she replied, eager to not get on his bad side. What had she been thinking when she’d gotten so outraged? Had she really thought he was about to… about to take advantage of her? The effect of the recent trauma was clearly making her out of sorts. Of course someone like him would probably have a highborn wife and lots of babies running around the place and no interest in someone like her, who didn’t even have a clan anymore.
“Here, you can wash yourself with this,” he said, handing her a ceramic jar. Inside, she saw a gloopy whitish liquid, but it had a delightful perfume.
“What is it, sir?” she asked, taking the jar in one hand.
“It’s called soap. It’s scented with lavender,” he said. “You scoop a bit of it out, and rub it over your body.”
“Then what, sir?” she asked.
“Then you wash it off again,” he explained.
“What’s that do, sir?” Callie thought it seemed a bit pointless.
“It makes you nice and clean,” he said.
Callie stared at the strange glop. The bathtub had been surprising enough. She had always bathed at the shores of the big loch near her village, using sand to get the dirt off, but she supposed people living in castles didn’t do such things. Taking a tentative finger, she touched the soft soap. It was cold, and reminded her of the texture of oysters and mussels, but even softer.
“That’s it, get a good dollop of it and rub it into your skin,” he said.
Callie, thusly encouraged, scooped some of the soap out and rubbed it on her forearm. It didn’t do as she’d expected, and instead dripped down into the bath with a splash.
“Here, let me show you.”
Andrew took the jar from her, took out a reasonable amount, and with his free hand, he lifted her arm, encircling her tiny wrist with his thumb and forefinger. He gently rubbed the soap over her skin, covering her with it, and little bubbles started to form where he had lathered it. The sight was fascinating to Callie, but the sensation of this strong man rubbing soap into her naked skin with his huge hand… that was something else entirely. Was it the cold that made her nipples harden like that, or was it his strokes as he covered her in bubbly soap? After he had done her arms, he moved onto her back, and she began to tremble in anticipation at the thought that her front must be next, but instead he passed the jar of soap back to her. She was slightly disappointed, but tried not to show it.
“You get the idea,” he said gruffly, and from the corner of her eye, she felt him watching her when she stood up to soap her legs and bottom. She skated quickly over her breasts, embarrassed by how hard her nipples had become, and finished up by washing her face.
He took the jar from her and replaced its lid. The tension in the room had grown as he picked up the jug again. She felt the warm water once again tumbling down her body as the soap was washed away, turning the water opaque.
“Here, dry yourself off on this.” He handed her a towel made of a strange, soft fabric. It was definitely not wool, she thought with surprise.
“What’s this made of, sir?” she asked him.
“Cotton,” he said. “It weaves more tightly than wool.”
She stood up in the bath, feeling naked and exposed as she rubbed herself dry with the towel, before stepping out of the bath and drying her feet off. They felt refreshed after being in the warming bath, and the cuts and scrapes she’d sustained were looking much smaller than before.
“Now you’re clean and dry, you’re due a spanking,” he said, and lifted her back over to the table and benches, where he unceremoniously tipped her over his knee and swatted her soft pink behind with his large, strong hand. It stung and made her wiggle her hips.
“What’s this for?” she asked indignantly, as the second blow landed on the other cheek, knocking the wind out of her. Should she do something to stop him? He was the laird, after all, but she had no idea why he was doing this.
“What’s this for, sir,” he said. “Did you not just threaten to nut me in the goolies? I’ll not stand for such behavior in my castle.”
She blushed hotly, horrified, as she realized that she had, in fact, said those exact words to him before the bath. A third and fourth swat stung her defenseless bottom and made tears prickle at the corners of her eyes.
“Please, I’m sorry, sir!” she cried. “I didnae ken what ye intended!”
“What business is it of yours what I intended?” he asked.
Callie realized that, as the laird of the land, he actually had every right to do whatever he liked with her. The thought made her clit twitch.
“I’m sorry, sir! I’ve never met a laird before! I didnae ken! I’m sorry!” she said again, as the spanks continued to land on her bottom.
“That’s better,” he said, and the spanks stopped. Her bottom was on fire and she was overcome with the urge to rub it, but Laird Andrew had both of her tiny wrists pinned to the small of her back with one of his huge hands. More surprising, she became aware that her pussy was clenching, her clit throbbing, and her nipples had hardened, pressing proudly against Laird Andrew’s leg.
“Aye, someone’s gettin’ excited,” Andrew commented, and Callie’s face colored the same as her bottom.
“No, I’m not!” she replied.
Another spank came down on her exposed bottom.
“What was rule number two?” he asked her.
“Don’t threaten you or lie to you,” she said quickly.
“It’s a blatant lie to say you’re not excited, lass, your pussy’s dripping wet!” he declared. “I can see I’m going to have my work cut out with you.”
Callie just bowed her head and said nothing.
“Go and put your dress back on,” he said. “Then get started on lunch, the pantry’s over there.” He lifted the full bathtub easily and tipped it out of the kitchen door, then brought it back and hung it on its hook. Callie began to wonder what she’d got herself into.
“Please… sir?” she began.
“Aye?” he asked.
“How many am I cooking food for?” she asked.
“Just you and me,” he answered, leaving her on her own.
She’d never been in a castle before, but somehow she had thought they would have more occupants.
Once she was sure she was alone, she lifted her dress and rubbed her burning bottom furiously. Nobody had ever spanked her before and Callie was still confused by how her body had responded to it. If it was supposed to be a punishment, why did it make her feel so… aroused?
When the food was ready, Callie was unsure whether she should go and find Laird Andrew or if he would just turn up to eat at a certain time. After agonizing over it for a few minutes, she decided there was nothing in his rules that said she wasn’t allowed to ask questions, so she went to look for him.
She went down the kitchen staircase into the courtyard, then up the other straight staircase into a hallway, separated from the rest of its room by a big wooden screen.
Through the doorway in the screen, Callie found a very fancy room with columns and decorated stone carvings, where Andrew was sitting on a high-backed wooden chair with intricate woodworking and spikes atop the back. Behind him was the entrance to a spiral staircase and before him was a solid wooden table covered in lots of paper.
“Um… Laird Andrew? Lunch is ready,” Callie said.
Andrew looked up at her, and she fled back to the kitchen before he said anything. Her message thus delivered, she sat at the table and ate a bread roll. By and by, he came to find his food.
“Smells good, what is it?” he asked.
“Broth, sir,” Callie replied. “It’s got neeps and tatties in it, sir, and a bit of kale.”
She got up to serve him a bowl from where the food was keeping warm in the hearth.
“Aye, the turnips are excellent,” he said.
“What are turnips, sir?” she asked, trying to copy his pronunciation.
“Neeps,” he replied. She felt silly for having asked; of course lairds had a fancy word for everything.
In silence, they ate the broth and bread.
“Sir?” she began. He looked up.
“Aye?” he said.
“Where is everyone, sir?” she asked.
“Well, my best pal is in Glasgow seeing to his fleet, and the girls who keep the place clean don’t work on a Sunday,” he said.
“Oh,” she said.
“Is that a spot of jealousy that I’ve employed some other women?” he teased her, and she colored red again.
“No, sir!” she replied quickly. “I just thought there’d be more people around.”
“I don’t stand on much ceremony here and there’s not a lot that needs doing in this castle,” he said.
“Wait, if it’s Sunday, sir, you’ve missed church,” she said.
“Where do you think I was returning from when I found you in my stable?” he asked. “I went this morning. If anyone’s missed church, it’s you!”
She stared at her fingers.
“D’you think God will mind, sir?” she asked.
“I’m sure he will understand this once,” Laird Andrew said.
Reassured, Callie finished her food, then cleared the table and washed the dishes. When she turned to put them away, she was startled to find Andrew still sitting at the table, watching her.
“What’re ye staring at?” she asked in surprise. The amount of attention he was casting her way was annoying her; what did he want with her?
“Again? Really? Come here.” He motioned to her. Callie’s heart sank. She knew he was going to spank her again and she didn’t want him to. Scratch that, she didn’t want to have let him down again, to have offended him, twice in one day. They weren’t getting off to the best of starts. After he’d given her a job and a place to live as well. She felt ashamed.
Reluctantly, she walked over to him and gave him her wrist, then let him pull her over his knee. He peeled back the woolen dress and she felt his hand caress her bare bottom. She inhaled sharply. It felt so good. Her body ached for him. But she still felt horribly guilty that she’d just spoken so sharply to him.
The first swat had her wiggling her hips again, but this time she was panting, silently wishing to be closer to him… she was afraid of her own feelings, of her desire for him, of wanting something she couldn’t have. There was absolutely no way she could tell a laird, a leader of a clan, that she was desperate for him to… to fuck her. She blushed in horrified amazement at her thoughts.
As he continued to rain spanks down on her unprotected ass, the fire in her cheeks became unbearable and after a dozen or so, she stopped trying to kick free and just went limp over his knee, accepting that he was the laird of this place, and he could do whatever he wanted with her. She began feeling tearful, but before the dam burst, he stopped.
“I think that’s enough for now. I intend to break you in, but I certainly don’t want to break you. You’re going to take some taming, I can tell,” Laird Andrew said, setting her on her feet again. “I can’t wait to introduce you to my best friend. I’m looking forward to sharing you with him.”
“What’s that mean… um… sir?” she asked. What was he implying?
“Well, I think you’re going to need a lot more attention and intimacy than I can give you. If you’re not happy with the idea that’s fine, it’s your choice of course. But in these turbulent times it would be wise to consider it. You’ll meet him when he gets back from Glasgow.”
“Does that mean you intend to… to couple with me, sir?” She knew it was his right, but she’d not expected him to find anything appealing about her. Didn’t the high-ups marry for alliances between the clans?
“Not if you don’t want me to. But judging by the fact you’ve managed to garner two spankings so far today, not to mention your response to those said two spankings, I think it’s pretty clear what you want,” he said.
Callie blushed red again. Why did that keep happening?
She looked him straight in the eye.
“Honest, sir? I don’t have no idea what I want,” she lied.
“Rule number two,” he said again, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t threaten you or lie to you,” she replied with a sigh.
“I can see that your bottom is going to be maroon by the time the week is out,” he said, pulling her back over his knee.
This time, the first spank chafed and it just got worse from there. To make matters worse, he seemed to be spanking her for longer this time, and he held her firmly so she couldn’t escape the fire in her cheeks, no matter how hard she tried. Soon she was making sobbing noises, despite the fact she wasn’t actually crying. It felt like some great emotional bubble was trying to come out but not quite managing it. The bubble got ever closer to bursting, but before it did, Laird Andrew stopped spanking her. She felt him caressing her sore, stinging bottom, and she sighed at his touch, her nipples hardening again and pressing against him. He reached between her legs and cupped her exposed sex.
“Tell me again, what do you want right now?” he asked.
“You,” she said lustily. “I want you, sir.” It was all that she could think about, as if everything in her life was irrelevant except for this one fact. Still, she was embarrassed that she was practically throwing herself at someone she’d just met. How was he having such an effect on her?
“That’s better, at least you’re being truthful now. Go and stand in the corner and think about what you did,” he said, tipping her upright.
She stared at him in disappointment and disbelief, but his face told her not to argue, so she trudged to the appointed corner, complete with grey stone brickwork and a couple of cobwebs, and she waited for whatever was supposed to happen next.
Bored and sore, being in the corner did not suit Callie’s impatient temperament one bit, and soon she was sighing and trying to stay put, but it was a losing battle.
“Come here, Callie,” he called to her. She turned and walked back to where he sat, still on the bench beside the kitchen table. The expression on his face was stern, but she wondered whether it was a facade. She wished she had been brave enough to tell him in the first place. Admitting to herself that she found him attractive would have been a good start, she reflected.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lie to you,” she said. “I didn’t think I was lying at the time, sir.”
“All right, I forgive you,” he said, and stroked her hair. “You go and explore the castle and get yourself settled in while I finish my work in the receiving hall—that big room you found me in earlier.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, and wandered off to look around.