Chapter 66

One of his hands grasped a soft buttock while the other grasped a breast, thrusting proudly from her chest, the nipple a turgid peak. He thumbed and twisted it in his massive fingers while delivering another lick to her exposed pussy. She began to rock on his chest, her cunt riding his mouth like a horse, continuous moans passing her lips as he pleasured her with his lips and tongue. More liquid flowed from her core and he struggled to keep up with the flow of sweet nectar mixed with his own seed. Her rocking picked up and when he sensed her impending release, he sucked her stiff clitoris in between his lips while tonguing the tip. She gave a small scream of pleasure and pushed her pussy against his mouth. He could feel it spasming and contracting above him, a fresh rush of fluid running down his chin.

He kept tonguing her, keeping her tremors going until she slid off him exclaiming, "Too much, too much. I'm so sensitive, tis almost painful."

"You liked it then?"

"Aye," she said. "Twas a wonderful ride."

She looked down at him, a glaze of her fluids about his mouth and chin, his beard damp with her spend.

"Messy boy," she laughed, starting to lap her fluids from his face.

When she was done, she glanced down the muscled length of him to find his cock still hard and bobbing with his heart beat.

"Good, you didn't lose it," Teárlag said, encircling his engorged cock with her hand.

"Unlikely," Thorburn replied. "Not with the scent of your sex so fresh in my nostrils."

"You like the scent of me, then?"

"It's intoxicating," he replied. "As is your taste, both sweet and tangy."

She climbed back on top of him, placing his prick at her entrance and slowly sinking over the girth of him, sighing as he split her in two again.

She sat there, enjoying the fullness of his massive prick packing her tightly stretched pussy.

"Now, Lord Cameron; a game. I have found my seat for the next hour or so. It is a lovely seat and I find it both comfortable and pleasurable, so I don't intend to remove myself from it for awhile. I'm going to ask you some questions and each time you answer me, I will move, giving you pleasure. Answer enough of them and I shall stimulate you to cum. Don't, and I shall only move enough to keep you hard and leaving you very frustrated. Are you willing to play?"

"Aye. Why not."

"Tell me about your mother."

As long as he said nothing, she sat inert upon his prick, not moving, but a delicious, tight fit. As soon as he began to speak, her cunt began to massage his cock in the most delicious way, though she scarce moved herself, merely caressing it from within.

"My mother was a Viking Shield maiden; Brynhildr, she was named. My father met her at a Norse trading town. At first, she would have nothing to do with him. But he continued to court her and she finally agreed to marry him if he could best the greatest warrior in the town, her brother, Bjarkë. Jamison was big, nearly as large as me, but Bjarkë had never previously been bested in combat. I understand the battle was fierce, lasting for over thirty minutes before my father disarmed him and forced him to yield. Brynhildr was exceedingly surprised by this state of affairs, but true to her vow, she married Jamison that day. Jamison hired Bjarkë to train his men so Brynhildr would have some family about. I spent a few years raiding and warring with Bjarkë, learning the ways of my mothers people after my eighteenth birthday, and he remains my weapons master to this day."

The delightful sensations ceased when he stopped speaking and he smiled up at her. "Another question, please. I find the answers so much more stimulating."

She grinned back at him. "What happened to Brynhildr?"

"She died in childbirth." The massaging continued. "I was too large and tore her badly. She bled to death. The only time I've rued my size was learning I'd killed her. Another one."

"Do all you brother's have different mothers?"

"Aye. Frang's mother was a Frenchwoman, Amandine, Jamison met her in the French court. She was one of the queen's handmaids. The queen didn't want to give her up, but the King insisted. He hated the English as much Jamison did and was eager to support anyone who hated the English. She died of a fever when Frang was two and I was six. Stuart's mother was Beatrix, an Englishwoman who survived a shipwreck off our coast. She was brought to Dervaig by the folks that found her where Jamison met her. He had two young boys who he believed would benefit from a mother, so he courted her until she agreed to be his wife."

"An Englishwoman?"

"Well, aye. Politics plays no part in affairs of the heart and family need, at least to Jamison. She was mother to us for longer than either of the first two wives, and gave Jamison his third son. She was a kind and loving woman, treating us all as her own. I left home after her death."

"Ailene tried to explain your father's philosophy regarding servants and tenants, and I understood some of it; at least that it's been successful, but I'm not sure I understand all. Can you explain it?"

"A lot of the changes happened after I left. I understand Jamison was reading works by men he admired and decided to put their philosophies to the test. All I really know is it's been quite successful. Stuart might be able to tell you more. Twas he instituting most of the changes under Jamison's guidance."

Teárlag continued to tease his cock by squeezing it within her sheath, not enough to bring him to completion, but enough to keep him hard and snug within her. All in all, he was enjoying her little game.

"How does the strapping thing work?"

"The punishments for any infraction are clear and explained to all. When one is committed, it's brought before the Laird for judgment. The infraction is discussed, including any extenuating circumstances, then the punishment is carried out. The rules apply to everyone equally as you saw today. Nothing is capricious and arbitrary. Everyone knows what's going to happen."

"And it's always the same?"

"Yes, on the whole. For example, it would normally be fifty swats for an instance of theft, a hundred for the second, depending upon circumstances."

"Fifty swats. I know men who'd take the hand of a thief, or brand him. What's to stop someone from robbing you blind?"

"There's little incentive to do so. We treat our people so much better than others. They know that. Most of them profit more than they would anywhere else. Where great need exists, we encourage them to ask for help and if it can be provided them, it is. There's very little thievery that goes on. We had a maid steal some silver a while back because her brother was sick and needed medical care. She was still fairly new and didn't think to ask for aid."

"And all she got was fifty swats?" Teárlag began to breath a little harder. Apparently, her ministrations were having a similar affect on her as they had on him.

"No, unfortunately. She should have, but due to a misunderstanding, Ailene dismissed her rather than give her the prescribed punishment. It was foolish. The poor girl disappeared, we don't know where, whether it was into a life of prostitution or some other accident befell her. Even her family doesn't know where she is or what happened."

"You've been in contact with her family?"

"Aye, we've given them food and helped with the doctor for her brother."

"You're helping them, despite their daughter stealing from you?"

"The poor lass was trying to help. Her parents are old, the brother too sick to work. She was the only source of income for the family. That's the bad of it. If she'd asked for help, we'd have done the same without her resorting to theft."