Chapter 139

She stood up, bent over and removed Blackthorne's cock once again. He was hard, aroused at Phillip's use of her mouth and anticipating her anal penetration. She engulfed his shaft and making sure she was balanced, put her hands on both cheeks and spread them for the butler. She heard Phillip step behind her and felt his hands grasp her hips and the head of his cock nudging at the star shaped orifice of her bum.

For just a moment, she lifted off Blackthorne's prick and said, "Be gentle sir. I'm not used to a cock as large as yours." She swallowed Blackthorne's cock again, pleased she'd gotten the minor dig at his manhood in, hoping it would cause Phillip to be more compassionate. Apparently it worked. She felt a gob of his spittle fall in her crack and rubbed around the hole with his prick before he pushed into her fundament. She gasped at the sudden fullness, not quite painful, nor yet comfortable. Phillip slowly eased his cock into her, but gave her time to adjust. As Blackthorne himself had been sucked to completion this morning himself, Teárlag knew she must work to empty his sack a second time, so she resigned herself to remaining in this position for an extended period of time. Hopefully, Phillip would help her to balance by continuing to hold her flanks as he fucked her. Now the butler was deep in her bowels, she could release her cheeks and place her own hands on Blackthorne's legs to help steady herself.

Phillip began pumping his prick up her posterior, going slowly enough she could actually enjoy her ass fucking, though hard enough, with every thrust, her mouth was driven over Blackthorne's knob. For fifteen minutes or more, she endured being spit upon the two shafts, one in her mouth, one snug up her haunches. Blackthorne released first, his foul tasting sperm bubbling up in her mouth and she swallowed quickly to rid herself of it. Phillip's ass fucking continued, almost pleasurable enough she could cum if she let herself, though she did not want to. If she found pleasure in her own humiliation, Blackthorne would have all the more reason to call her slut and whore. She squeezed her buttocks together, trying to generate enough friction to get Phillip off without reaching orgasm herself. Her efforts were rewarded when he slammed against her cheeks and his prick throbbed orgasmically deep in her bum. Teárlag kept her mouth on Blackthorne's cock until Phillip pulled out of her rear.

"This slut will clean your prick before you put it away," Blackthorne said. "No point in soiling a perfectly good pair of pants."

Not if you can soil my mouth instead, you bastard, Teárlag thought. I wish I could shit down your throat and see how you liked it.

Like the frightened, obedient slave she was in Blackthorne's presence, Teárlag knelt down and thoroughly cleaned Phillip's prick before tucking it back in his trousers. At least it's my muck, she thought, and not the maid's.

"That's all, Phillip. You may leave now."

"Yes, Lord." Phillip bowed and left.

Blackthorne left Teárlag kneeling on the floor, studying her like and insect under a magnifying glass. Teárlag wondered if he'd reached a decision about whether she should move into Cameron Keep. He'd said nothing to this point, though she wondered if her use by Phillip was added degradation because he'd decided she should move in with Thorburn and he wanted to remind her who was in control.

"Bend over the settee," he ordered.

"Yes, Master." She'd known better to think she could escape his clutches unscathed. She didn't even bother reminding him she would be seeing Thorburn later. Since he hadn't spoken on the subject, it was totally up to him whether she would or not, though she noted he pulled a wide strap from his bottom drawer rather than one likely to leave marks past today. She gripped the front edge of the settee and gritted her teeth, though she knew she would end up screaming, since he desired it so.

Blackthorne proceeded to give her thirty of the hardest strokes she ever remembered him delivering. She screamed with the first blow, wrenched from her lungs with the brutality of it. He seemed to be using every ounce of his strength, grunting with the effort of inflicting pain on her bottom. It was merciless. She was begging him to stop after five strokes, begging harder than she'd ever begged before. On and on, the strap whistling down as it swished through the air, smacking like a thunderclap on her abused bottom. She was sobbing when he finished, practically breathless, the air beaten out of her. Her hands were white from how hard she'd clenched the wooden edge of the seat, tingling from the blood finally flowing back in.

He left her there, admiring the fiery red of her ass, then taking a seat, holding his hands as if he were praying and resting his chin on the tips of his fingers. He watched her sob for a few minutes, waiting for her to quiet down.

"I've decided to allow you to move into Cameron Keep. Today was a small reminder of what will happen to you if I find you've betrayed me. I will ensure every soldier I have will fuck your mouth, your cunt and your ass before I start in with you. You can't begin to know the torments I've devised for you if I find you false." He paused, giving his words time to sink in. "I suspect you will not be able to report to me on a weekly basis in person, but you will send weekly reports at minimum, through your servants and I insist you report once a month. If you fail to do so, I will assume you've betrayed me and you can expect no mercy if I ever find you outside the Keep walls. No matter where in the world you try to disappear, my agents will find you and bring you back to me, if I have to spend every penny I own to do so. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Teárlag whispered hoarsely.

"You may let the Cameron's know today you intend to move to the Keep, but you will go to Dervaig tonight and remain there, packing for at least two days. It will take that long before you may show your ass to Thorburn without him realizing I own you. Any deviation from my instructions will be dealt with harshly. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Master."

"You're dismissed. Take your clothing to the dungeon and dress there. While you're dressing, take a good, long look around. Every piece of equipment there will be your future lot in life if you betray me."

Without another word, Blackthorne left the room. Teárlag gathered her things and gingerly went down the stairs, her bottom an aggregation of fire on fire. She looked around at the instruments of torture and all the equipment for confining and tormenting tender flesh and shivered in fear. She'd been afraid before; she was terrified now.

Teárlag had to tell the Camerons she could no longer spy for them. Yet to not move there was impossible now. Blackthorne was expecting her to spy on them. Failure to do so would be dealt with as harshly as betrayal. If she did spy for Blackthorne, she would be betraying her friends, the best people she knew, and the man she loved. Her situation was impossible. Even moving into the Keep, Blackthorne expected her to report to him once a month. Her pain and humiliation would continue indefinitely until Blackthorne had what the wanted, the end of the Camerons, and then she'd be married to him and forced to live a lifetime of misery. The only end she could foresee was death, quick and painless. Maybe Thorburn would take enough pity on her, he would end her life for her. She despaired.

Teárlag dressed, but even the lightness of her under shift was like needles to the skin of her bottom. She carried the dress with her down the tunnel, shivering, yet unable to do more than stumble forward into her life of hell. Why hadn't she run screaming into the night when she first met Blackthorne? Greed. No wonder it was one of the seven deadly sins. She was paying for it now.

Even in the time it took to reach the house at the end of the tunnel, Teárlag couldn't bear the thought of her dress rubbing on the cheeks of her ass. She sighed. What matter if Blackthorne's servants saw her in her shift? He had no compunction of sharing her with the lowliest of them. In all likelihood, they would eventually see her naked at some point. She didn't even care anymore. If she were dead, what would it matter?

She waited until the carriage was outside, then walked out of the house, carrying her heavy dress. Fuck them, fuck them all. Teárlag's maid snickered as she painfully climbed into the carriage and knelt on the floor so she wouldn't have to sit on the seats, a prospect which she found untenable.

"The Camerons have rules about beating their servants," Teárlag said. "I have no such rules. Smile, laugh, or even speak about this again and you will find yourself in worse straights than I am now. You will be lucky to sit down within a week."

"Lord Blackthorne would never allow me to be punished."

"I am to be his primary spy in the Cameron household, privy to even their private meetings. What makes you think he gives a damn about what happens to some lowly servant girl compared to me?"

"Because I..." She stopped, realizing she might be speaking of something private out of turn.

"Because you spy on me?" Teárlag said. "What of it? I've known you were his spy since you started working for me. He wouldn't let anyone do his dirty work without spies to ensure they do as they're told. You probably have spies watching you. For all you know, I'm one of them. You won't learn anything unless I learn it first. Servant girl spies are a farthing apiece. I'm to be affianced to Thorburn Cameron; to worm my way into his heart and into his innermost councils. I'm to seek his bed and pleasure him for every secret he whispers to his bedmate. I doubt Blackthorne gives a fig for anything I do to you as long as I leave you alive to do his bidding. If I were you, I wouldn't test your value to him. You may find yourself a plaything in his dungeon as many other girls before you. Am I clear?"

Her maid was silent, considering her words. Finally, she spoke. "Yes, Mistress."

"We're going to Cameron Keep now. I'm to tell Thorburn I will be moving in. You may help me into my dress before we get there. I don't want to hear another word out of you."

"Yes, Mistress."

Teárlag lay down on her side on the seat, crying silently, her back to her maid, and waited for them to approach Cameron Keep.