Glynis had entered Laird Bran McKinnon’s bedchamber as a reluctant innocent fearing what would happen to her in the clutches of a stranger. She emerged a more knowing young woman, but with the added realization that while she wasn’t the first woman who’d felt the touch of Bran the Bull, his relationship with her would be different than any he’d ever had.
“Any lass can be tumbled,” he’d said the morning after he’d taken her for the third time, this time from behind. “But only one lass can be my own wee one. That’s you, little Glynis.”
She still felt special, even now, as nanny led her away from Bran’s bedchamber. She’d been grateful that Ina had the forethought to bring a fresh gown to replace the one the laird had ripped from her body. She’d blinked back tears as they parted, and he’d kissed her and told her that were he not laird, they’d spend all day in bed. But there were duties to be seen to, and disputes to hear, and his factor was coming to call later in the day and such things needed attention.
As the daughter of a laird, it was easy enough to understand. Similar duties had kept her father busy; now she was to endure the same in the man who’d assumed dual roles as both husband and surrogate father.
Bran told Glynis that she would spend her day in the company of her nanny Ina. “When I’m nae there to correct ye, ‘tis her job. Ye ken?” Bran’s paternal tone brooked no disobedience.
“What am I do to all day?” she asked. Back at Castle McLeod, she’d run wild with Ina trailing on her heels, begging her to be careful.
“Whatever your nanny says,” came the answer. Then he winked. “I’ve much more in store for that sweet body, lass, and am countin’ on nanny to help prepare ye for what I’ve got planned.”
More? What more could there be? She flushed, remembering his face between her legs, his cock, his fingers… what more could the man plunder? She had no time to ask before nanny Ina was guiding her from the room. Glynis expected to be taken back to the small room she’d shared with Ina before her union with Bran. But instead she was taken to an entirely different room. As soon as she entered, she stopped short and stared.
“What is that?”
“’Tis your new bed on the nights you’re nae with yer husband.”
Glynis looked at Ina, then back, pointing. “That’s nae a lady’s bed. It’s a…”
“A wee child’s, one made especially for a bairn whose outside has grown faster than her inside.” Ina walked over, running her hand across the curved top. “The laird had it handcrafted. Isn’t it a fine wedding present?”
Glynis could think of any number of things she’d have rather had—dresses she knew she was now not allowed to wear, horses she probably wouldn’t be able to ride without being led, jewels… all things that men shared with their wives, their adult wives. The presence of the simple nursery bed was just another reminder of what she now realized was her husband’s unique taste for an age-regressed wife, and how her natural immaturity and willfulness had made her the perfect complement in this unusual union.
“This is the nursery,” Ina said, walking around the room. “There’s a small chamber for me, off to the side, and another chamber across the way for a private bath and a chamber pot.”
Glynis was used to a chamber pot being beside the bed. She wondered if it was the way of the McKinnon to have a separate room for the purpose, and moved to peek inside the room where there was indeed a chamber pot, an oak tub but also a small bed similar to the one she’d occupied on her first nights at the castle.
“Why is there a bed in the bath chamber?” She looked back at Ina, puzzled.
“The bed is for things that will need to be done—shavings, cleansing…”
The shaving Glynis was now aware of. She blushed as she remembered how sensitive her pussy had been without its fleecy shield, how the slightest touch of Bran’s fingers and tongue… she pushed the thoughts from her mind as she focused on the unusual term.
“Yes. You’ll get your first one this morning after breakfast, and if you’re a good bairn and endure it without a fuss, afterwards you’ll get a nice hot bath and spend your day doing pleasant things until your husband calls you to his room.”
“He’ll send for me again tonight?”
“Laird McKinnon is a man of substantial appetite. Judging by the way you’re walking this morning, I wager you got quite an education last night. And it’s only just begun.”
That was all nanny Ina would say. The next thing Glynis knew, a maid was bringing in a breakfast tray, and several more servants were hauling steaming buckets of water to the oak tub in the small chamber. If they noticed the novelty of the new Lady McKinnon’s quarters, the servants did not acknowledge it. Glynis was happy for this, and grateful that at least she was allowed to feed herself. She was, she realized, quite famished after a night of bed sport, and finished all the thick porridge, salted pork, and brown bread she’d been served. There was a cup of creamy milk as well. As Glynis drained it, she recalled Bran’s words about the special medicine she’d been given daily. She thought of her sisters, who used to play with pretend babies and prayed that as wives they’d bear strong children. Glynis’ prayers had always been the opposite; now those prayers would be answered.
But there were other sacrifices Glynis would have to make as Bran McKinnon’s child bride, even if she didn’t realize it at the time. And the next step of her training was about to begin.
“You…” The nanny approached one of the two maids who’d come to clear away the dishes. “Dinna stray far. I may need your help, so keep an ear out should I call. Send the dishes with the other and wait outside the door.”
The maid cast a wary look at the imposing nanny, who was already gaining some prominence among the staff given her relationship with Laird McKinnon’s new wife. But it was a strained authority. Several times nanny had grumbled that the lower staff seemed reluctant to afford a McLeod maid the same respect they’d have given one of their own.
“Aye,” the maid said tersely, and handed the dishes over to her fellow servant. After the pair left, Glynis turned to her nanny.
“Why did you ask one of them to stay close?”
“In case I need her to hold you down.”
Glynis wasn’t sure she heard right. “Hold me… down? For what?”
Ina walked over and took the younger woman’s small hands in her own. “Your laird is smitten with you, both as his wife and his wee one. But make no mistake, lass, he is still a hard man, and his expectations of ye have nae changed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re a lass of quick temper and high emotions. For the moment you’re mellowed by your man’s attention and your first proper lovemaking. It’s gentled ye, and I aim to keep you that way, which is why you’ll now get the same cleansings yer sisters got when they were in my charge.”
Cleansings. Glynis again tried to remember. She’d thought the word new and strange, but now when she thought back to her childhood, there were times she’d heard whispers of nanny’s special practice, spoken in hushed and dreaded tones.
“Of what am I being cleansed? And where?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, even as she asked the question.
“Of things that bind and cause distress internally,” Nanny said gently. “You’ll take a bag of medicine into your bottom, hold it, and then push it out. Believe me, ‘tis a great release. My ma taught me the practice from when she was a nanny, and used it on us. ‘Twas a practice started far away in desert lands, and brought to France by travelers, so ‘tis nothing new. ‘Tis good for your health and disposition, and as an added benefit, it cleans the bottom passage so that your laird can better explore it.”
Glynis worried the fabric of her gown with her small hands. “And why would my husband want to explore my… bottom passage?”
“That is for him to say. It is only my task to make you as squeaky clean and sweet inside as outside. Into the chamber with ye.”
When Glynis remained rooted to the floor, nanny Ina crossed her arms. “Would you rather I call the maid? Trust me, a cleansing is something you want to keep private.”
Glynis dropped her eyes, her face flaming. She had no idea what the procedure would entail, but imagined it would include a full view of a bare bottom that still bore the marks of a sound strapping and a glimpse of her freshly shaven and well-used pussy.
She realized it was an incredibly childlike gesture to rub the sleeve of her shirt across her pert little nose as a hitching sob escaped her. Ina clucked maternally as she guided her charge into the chamber. Steam rose from the oak tub; by the time the cleansing was over, the water would still be warm but not cool.
“Off with yer gown and the put yourself on that bed with that wee bottom raised.”
“Ina, please…” Glynis tried, but her nanny turned and her expression was now as severe as her tone.
“One more word and I’ll call the maid to help hold ye. If you fight that, I’ll call the laird himself. If ye think he’s a strict man on a day when he has time to tend ye, just think what he’ll be like if he’s called away to deal with an out-of-control wife.” She fell silent, allowing her words to sink in. Then her face and tone softened. “Ye may think me harsh, but this is for yer own good. Dinna make me force an outcome ye canna avoid.”
Glynis knew she was right. With a pathetic sniffle, she raised the gown up over her head and removed it before letting it drop to the floor. She cast an uncertain glance at Ina, who was now holding a bag and what looked like a straight white horn.
“What is that?” she asked, taking her position on the bed. She was on all fours, still not having found the courage to assume the chest-down-bottoms-up position she knew would be required.
Nanny sat down by Glynis’ hip and held up the white object; it was only then that Glynis noticed that the narrow end was shiny with some sort of grease. The narrow portion was about eight inches long, and led to a tapered open end. The whole thing was hollow.
“It’s made of hollowed gourd,” Nanny said. “It’s a design used on many a wee bottom, including my own when I was but a lass.”
“This end…” she pointed to the tapered side, “…goes into your bottom. The wider portion sticks out and that’s where the special medicine goes. It runs down into your insides, and ye hold it. When it comes back out, with it comes all the bad.”
Glynis’ eyes dropped to the bag sitting beside the nanny. It was small, stoppered, and looked like the wine bags the men carried on journeys.
“You’re putting all of what’s in the bag into my bottom?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” Ina said, patting the girl’s flank. “Now put your face to the bed, hike up your bottom, and spread your legs.”
The moment Glynis feared had come to pass. Her heart pounded as she obeyed, the fear of nanny’s threats outweighing the fear of the cleansing. She told herself that this was what her husband wanted. It was that desire to please Bran that made Glynis ultimately present her bare bottom to nanny Ina.
“You’ve a tight little rosebud,” Nanny said, pressing against Glynis’ dusky crinkled anus with her sturdy forefinger. The young lady moaned in shame at the knowledge that her caretaker was looking at her there—was touching her there! “You’ll feel a pressing on your wee back hole now,” she continued. “When you do, I want you to bear down, like you’re trying to push it out. Trust me when I say it will make things easier.”
Glynis groaned with embarrassment, mortified at what may happen. But as she obeyed Ina’s orders, she felt the end of the narrow funnel slide in. It was not comfortable, and she felt a slight burn, but it quickly receded.
“I coated the end that’s inside ye with a special grease containing a numbing herb,” Ina explained. And Glynis realized that the sting had receded quite rapidly. But now there was another sensation as the older woman seated the skin bag snuggly into the open horn of the funnel and squeezed, sending a warm rush of liquid into Glynis’ bowels.
There was no way she could ignore the cramps when they hit her; Glynis wagged her bottom from side to side as if attempting to escape them, but a hard slap from to her round, white flank stilled her.
“Oh, nanny Ina! It hurts!”
“It does not hurt,” Ina disagreed with a scoff. “There’s a wee bit of seizing of the gut, but that’s normal and means the medicine is working. Now keep your bottom up, or else you’ll make a mess.” Nanny removed the bag but left the funnel, which now served as a stopper, murmuring encouragement to Glynis as she held the device in place.
“How long?” Glynis’ lower lip was trembling.
“Not many more minutes, lass,” Ina said, stroking the girl’s thigh. “Just close your eyes and imagine yourself in this position before your handsome husband, of him looking at that little posy and your sweet cunny, knowing you’ve let yourself be made fresh and clean just for him. Imagine how happy he will be…”
And just like that, the distracting terrible cramps eased to be replaced by a tingle as Glynis embraced the scenario her nanny described. She saw her husband’s face, pressed tight between her legs. She was being cleansed for him. Would he touch her bottom as nanny had done? She flushed at the thought, thinking it not such a terrible notion. Bran McKinnon was a powerful force. When she’d been with him, she felt dominated, overwhelmed. And she’d loved it. The notion that there was more to come—more unspeakable, forbidden acts of pleasure—caused her pussy to clench on itself.
“Well, well,” Nanny Ina said quietly. “It looks as if your wee peach is moist at just the mention of your husband.”
Before she could even allow herself to feel the added humiliation of Ina’s observation, Glynis felt the funnel removed and the nanny’s touch on her shoulders as she was helped off the bed and allowed to sit on the chamber pot just a few feet away. The relief of having endured the ordeal without an accident made the little redhead quite pleased, and afterwards she had to admit that she did feel cleaner and more relaxed.
“Now, was that really so bad?”
“It’s nae something I’d want to repeat…” Glynis said.
Ina snorted at this. “A wee bairn nae gets to refuse a cleansing. You will get one if it’s due, and you’ll submit like a good lass when it happens.”
Glynis felt too drained to argue as nanny Ina wiped her down, settled her in the tub, and left with the chamber pot. The water was now just warm enough to be comfortable, and after her bath she was delighted to find that rather than a gown, an actual dress was waiting.
It was a simple dress, but an elegant one, and without the ornate needlework that Glynis was used to. But it fit her, at least, and she was so delighted that she didn’t even sulk as nanny brushed out her hair and once again denied her any covering befitting a married woman.
“The laird thought you may like a stroll in the garden,” Ina said, and just like that, Glynis’ sulks disappeared. She’d not been allowed out since arriving.
With her nanny in attendance, the diminutive Lady McKinnon looked more like a child than the wife of a powerful laird. But despite her appearance, servants curtseyed, and if they thought her appearance unconventional, they either knew better than to smirk or had been told not to make notice.
A bearded man approached the pair, and after introducing himself as Rufus McKinnon, announced that he’d escort them about the place. Glynis asked if she could see the stables. Rufus seemed to consider this and then nodded. “I see nae need why not.”
Ina and Glynis followed the broad man to where the horses were kept, and Rufus and the nanny watched as the Lady McKinnon enjoyed a rather emotional reunion with the white pony she’d brought with her from her homeland.
“Can I ride her?” Glynis asked, her green eyes shining.
“Nae without the laird’s permission.” When the lass scowled, Ina shook her finger. “I see yer thoughts behind those green eyes, lass. And if ye even think of mounting a horse without permission, I’ll tan your backside properly and so will the laird.”
Rufus raised an eyebrow at this, and while it was not at all uncommon in the Highlands for a man to spank his wife, Glynis found herself seething that Ina would threaten her in the Rufus’ presence.
“Thank you, Rufus,” Glynis said, giving her pony a final pat, and turned to walk from the stable without a word, blinking back tears as she walked. As she walked swiftly back toward the keep, Ina hurried to keep up.
“Glynis!” the nanny called, pulling at Glynis’ arm when she caught up. But Glynis shook the nanny off as she turned to her.
“Dinna sulk,” the older woman said in a regretful tone.
Glynis crossed her arms over her chest. “I may be both Bran McKinnon’s child and lady, but I’d thank you not to forget the latter, at least not in public. Today when you gave me the cleansing, you gave me the choice of keeping my dignity before the staff, Ina. But now you disrespected me in front of one of my new kinsmen.”
Ina had the good grace to feel regret for her actions. Stepping forward, she hugged the young woman she’d raised. “You’re right, of course. It’s one thing for your husband to skelp ye, and quite another for me as a servant to lord myself over ye in mixed company.” She stood back. “I’m sorry, Glynis. I do love ye. I love ye as if you were my own, and sometimes I forget that you’re nae my bairn, especially when you stand up for what’s right.”
Glynis linked arms with the nanny as they walked back inside the castle. “Tell me again what she was like,” she said as they walked.
Ina sighed. “Yer ma was like you, a wee slip of a thing with a spirit as wild as the Highlands themselves. She was a MacKenzie, you know, and yer da loved her. Some men would have been disappointed over a string of lasses when lads are so prized, but nae your da. After each birth, his first question was never, ‘Boy or girl?’ but ‘How is my Mary?’ She had a laugh like silver bells and a temper like… like…” she smiled down at Glynis, “…like yours. And the day she died I believe a bit of your da died with her. When the priest suggested it was God’s sign that he take another wife who would give him sons, yer da knocked out three of his teeth right there in the churchyard.”
Glynis smiled at this.
“In you he saw a reflection of the woman he lost. That’s why he could nae part with you until ordered to do so. But I believe the fates were lookin’ out for ye. It was yer time, Glynis. You were meant for Bran McKinnon, and I believe yer ma is smilin’ down on the union.”
They were back in the castle now, and while her heart was warm from the story, Glynis had taken a chill. Ina looked concerned when she noticed her charge shivering. Guiding Glynis to the window seat in a hallway alcove, the nanny bade her sit while she went to fetch a wrap.
The day outside was overcast and cool. Glynis sat staring out at the distant loch, the water made choppy by the brisk wind. After a moment, voices caught her attention. Not wanting to draw attention, she tucked her feet beneath her and shrunk back into the window seat, partially hiding behind a drape.
“Are you sure it wasn’t noticed?” The voice speaking was low and gravelly.
“I’ll not tell you another time, Angus.” This voice was high and smooth, the tone almost solicitous. “The amounts were so minimal as not to be missed. The laird looked over the books as he always does and is satisfied that all is as it should be.”
“And you’re goin’ out again tomorrow?” The gravelly voice was nervous, and Glynis could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps coming toward her now. Instinct told her to wrap the drape about her completely around herself as they approached.
The men continued to talk, unaware of her presence. “Ye know I am, Angus.” The reedy voice was impatient. “I’m away to the north. I’ll return with rent, a cut for our cause and Bran will be none the wiser, ye ken? We’ll have enough for our coffers then, and lads to the west will have enough of a jingle in their pocket to make tearing down the peace worth their while. Trust me; it will nae stand.”
Something was murmured that Glynis couldn’t make out as the men moved on. A moment later, a hand jerked aside the curtain and she jumped in fear.
“God’s bones, Ina! Don’t scare me so!”
“Why were ye hidin’?” Ina asked.
“I was nae hiding,” Glynis lied. “I was using the drape for warmth.” She turned, trying to keep her voice casual. “Do ye knew who those men are at the end of the hall?”
Ina peered in the direction of the two men, who had stopped outside a doorway.
“The tall one, I do not know, other than that he’s in your husband’s circle,” she said. “The short one in the hat is your husband’s factor, Duncan.”
At that very moment, the shorter man turned back, as if he’d overheard. He looked hard at the two women before turning to continue around the bend with his companion. Glynis found his look unnerving.
“His factor?” Glynis felt a chill. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?” Ina shot Glynis a disapproving look. “I hope you weren’t eavesdropping, child. The affairs of these great men is nae your concern, and your husband will not hold with yer being a busybody.”
Glynis started to object, but stayed her tongue. She thought of her former home across the Western border. Could it be that these men were considering reviving the rivalry between the McKinnons and the McLeods? And to what ends?
She thought to bring the matter up to her husband later, but as soon as she was in Bran’s presence she knew he was in no mood for talk. She’d barely cleared his doorway before he’d scooped her up and sat down, holding her on his lap. Glynis wound her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hair, inhaling his masculine scent. She felt so small in his embrace, like a little bird. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her arm, and it made her feel deliciously helpless, knowing how powerful he was.
“So, did my wee Glynis have a good day?” Bran smoothed the hair from her face as he spoke, his gray-green eyes locked on hers.
“I did,” she said. “I went to the stables. I miss riding, my laird.”
Bran turned his wife to face him, positioning her legs so that she straddled his lap. She gasped as he guided his cock into her. “Then ye’ll ride me,” he said, and she gasped at having her already wet pussy immediately and thoroughly filled. “Show me what a good little rider ye are.” As he moved her up and down, Glynis moaned. She could feel her excitement building and threw her head back, her waves of red hair falling past her husband’s knees as she prepared to fall into ecstasy.
But it was not to be. She cried out in disappointment as he pulled her off and positioned her on her knees in front of his cock. It was glistening with her juices, and she looked up at him with questioning eyes.
“Do ye remember the other night when I feasted upon your sweet cunny?” he asked.
She blushed deeply, but nodded.
“Well, ‘tis time to display the same art on me, lass.” Bran sat before her, legs spread, and Glynis could not help but stare with fascination as his large hand began pulling on the length of his already massive cock. “But remember, when I feast on you, ‘tis an act of ownership. When you take my cock in your mouth, ‘tis an act of submission.”
The words caused a pulse of wetness to pump from beneath her legs and run down her thighs. Her gaze was focused on his cock now, the veiny length, the large ruby head. A drop of pearly fluid appeared at the tip, like dew. She looked up at him.
“What do I do?”
“Ach, my sweet innocent. Ye nurse it as a wee baby would nurse her mother’s tit to start. Here, put yer hands on it.” He guided them to the base, and Glynis wrapped her fingers around the bottom of his shaft. His cock felt like the finest leather stretched over iron. It was warm, the ridges running its length slightly pulsing. The nest of pubic hair from which it sprang was as black as the hair on his head.
“Put your wee mouth around the top,” he said, watching as her full lips parted to slide tentatively over the head. “Ach, that’s it, lass.” He stroked her hair as he spoke. “Keep your wee pink tongue underneath. Move it about a little… ah… such a good lass. Now slide yer mouth up and down. Oh, sweet Jesu… that’s it. That’s my wee love. Take yer mouth down until ye feel me press against yer throat. Breathe through yer nose. Well done. Well done.”
She could feel his cock like a living thing in her mouth. Glynis had been afraid at first, but his reaction, and the knowledge that this act of submission was pleasing him so, had her pussy all but dripping with moisture and pulsing with need. She continued to move her mouth up and down, up and down, relishing the feel of his hand winding in her hair, relishing the feel and taste of him in her mouth as he guided her head, setting the rhythm. When Bran spoke again, his voice was strained.
“Are ye excited, lass?”
“Mmmm,” came her response.
“Do ye remember where I touched ye, right atop your sweet wet slit on that spot that felt so good?”
She nodded, keeping his cock in her mouth.
“Touch yourself there now,” he ordered, and fueled by her desire to obey, by the excitement of it, Glynis put her fingers between her legs. She circled her clit as he had done and moaned against his cock. As she did, she felt it surge. She brought her mouth up its length, but before she could push it back down, Bran was lifting Glynis back onto his lap to impale her on his shaft. Her orgasm was powerful and immediate, and she could feel him pumping in response to her convulsive grips as her cries filled the room. When the last of his seed was spent, Bran McKinnon held his wife tightly against his chest.
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