Chapter 94

Frang had climaxed already this morning and had no great need to push for another orgasm yet. Placing both hands on her bottom, he began following her rhythm, thrusting in counterpoint to hers which caused his sack to slap against her clit as they came together in heavenly collision. Once again, Isobel found her arousal increasing and realized she would be climaxing soon. Frang was so good at this. She thrusted harder and faster against him, feeling herself melt over him.

"My Lord," she said, panting. "Fuck me! You make me spend again," and her cunt clasped his cock in delightful spasms.

Frang stopped thrusting and waited for her contractions to ease. When they stopped, he bid her lie on her back again with her legs parted. She watched closely as he inched between her legs, but rather than covering her with his body, he remained kneeling. He pulled her legs to either side of his torso until they were resting over his bent legs. Using his hand, he aimed his rigid prick down between them until she felt the head nudging at her glistening gates again. He pulled her hips against him and his cock reentered her sheath, causing her to utter a sudden gasp as she felt herself stabbed anew. He merely had to flex his hips slightly and his cock fucked back and forth a couple inches. His position and the natural tendency of his cock to spring upward while hard kept the head rubbing against the spot in her sheath he'd already manipulated once this morning to make her cum. Moreover, with his hands free, one of them started stroking and fondling Isobel's breasts, still aroused from his skillful fucking, while the other gently circled her clit.

It was as though Frang had been issued a written guide to the female form. It seemed he knew her body better than she did herself. Everything he did designed to wring every drop of satisfaction he could from her. She had just released and he was already well on his way to pulling another orgasm from her. Isobel convinced herself Frang gave her more pleasure in the short time he'd accessed her body than in all her years married to McTavish.

"I shall cum with you this time, my Love. Let me know when you are close."

"I'm ever so close now, husband. It won't be long."

He ceased his manipulation of her breasts and taut nipples, to rest his hand on the bed, giving him more purchase to increase the speed and depths of his thrusting, but his other hand remained where it was. Instead of circling her clit, his thumb kept grazing the tip, driving her crazy with lust. Her sheath soaked his prick in her feminine fluids as she felt herself cresting.

"I cum," Isobel moaned, as waves of intense ecstasy flooded her body, her cunt convulsing around his cock. Two more short thrusts and he plunged full depth into her quivering core and released his milky essence in long, pulsating spurts.

Isobel lay there, exhausted, her body wrung out from the intensity and frequency of her orgasms this morning. Aware of the spectacle she must present to him, a panting, sweaty mess; her splayed legs spread around him. Her damp sex on full exhibition, his cock still throbbing in her cunt and the evidence of their lust dripping between her ass cheeks. She fully expected to find a puddle in the bed she'd cum so hard. She suddenly felt like a brazen harlot and turned to the side, curling into a ball so she wouldn't be so exposed to him. Perplexed by the sudden strange emotions surging within her, she tried to decipher what she felt and what it meant.

The odd part was, McTavish had treated her like a whore, passing her to his debt holders, truly demeaning and abusing her in doing so. Though treated as one, she'd never felt like one, blaming McTavish for her treatment. Frang, on the other hand, made her feel like a whore, because he'd made her crave her pleasure, nearly begging for his cock, fucking him because she hungered for it, yet he'd treated her with nothing but kindness and consideration.

"Are you alright, Isobel," Frang asked, concerned she was withdrawing from him.

"I'm not hurt, if that's what you're asking," she replied.

"I want to know if you're okay," he said. "You shrink into yourself."

Frang lay down beside her, facing her, his hand pulling the sheets over them before he touched her cheek and stroked her hair.

"You can tell me anything," he said quietly. "I want nothing but the best for you."

Isobel was silent at first, still gathering her thoughts. Frang waited patiently, continuing his loving touches.

After a few minutes, she said, "McTavish treated me like a whore, but I never felt like one, because I hated it and resisted it, and only did what was forced upon me. Never have I felt like a whore until this morning. You treat me with nothing but respect and affection but because I craved sex with you, I feel like one."

Frang smiled at her, suddenly relieved.

"I think you have the wrong idea about prostitutes, my Love. They do not crave sex. I'd dare say most of them feel little arousal when engaged in the act of sex. It is merely a profession which they are forced to endure for money. I believe them to be more gifted in acting their arousal than in actual enjoyment of the act. It is far more likely for those in love to experience craving for sex than a whore."

"You know so much about whores?"

"I've spoken to a fair number of them."

"After engaging in relations with them?" Isobel asked.

"I admit I've hired services once or twice," Frang acknowledged, "but they will not be honest when doing so. They must convince their customers they are the greatest lovers they've ever had, else they may not return. Most of my conversations with prostitutes have been over coffee or drinks. They are far more honest when they know there's no money to be made from you. I conversed because I wanted to know their stories, why they did what they did, and how they got there. It was mere curiosity on my part. I suspect most prostitutes feel much the same as you did when McTavish passed you about."

"So you believe my desire for you is not a whorish craving on my part?" Isobel wondered.

"Nay. In fact, I pray it is a sign of that which I most desire; the first indications of affection and love for me on your part. I believe I can confidently state Ailene and Stuart crave sex with one another and Ailene doesn't strike me as a whore. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Aye. They seem to have deep affection for one another and Ailene's admitted her lustful desire of Stuart to me."

"If true, then you need not feel like a whore because you've enjoyed our coupling. Rather, I say you may be a beloved wife who has a certain fondness for her husband."

"Then you wouldn't think me a trollop if I asked you to show me other ways of coupling which don't restrict me; close me in?"

"Nay, Love. I'd enjoy showing you all the ways a man and wife might please one another."

"Teach me, Frang. It's so different for me to enjoy the act of love. It was just brutal fucking with McTavish and his cronies. I detested it, yet I cannot detest what you do to me. Never before has it been a loving experience. Please show me."

Frang kissed her, saying, "I'll ask the servants to bring us some breakfast so we can refresh ourselves and build our energy. As much as I crave you, even I have to rest occasionally."

Isobel nodded. Frang rang for a servant and when she arrived, Frang asked her to bring a tray of food; some bread and cheese, perhaps some leftover fowl.

"Aye, my Lord. I'll bring it up right away."

"Knock before entering," Frang said. "My Lady and I may be otherwise engaged."

"Aye, my Lord. As you wish." As she turned away, she smiled. It seemed the newlyweds were enjoying some wedded bliss, though she'd heard rumors the Lady and Lord were already expecting a child. It was good they had not grown tired of each other yet.

Frang closed and locked the door. He grabbed her bathing cloth, wet it in the cold bath water and wrung it out. Bringing it to the bed, he tenderly wiped the residual signs of their lovemaking from her body.

"It's best we start fresh," he said. "Don't you agree?"

Isobel did and when he had finished wiping her, she turned the cloth to a side not used and wiped his face, still showing signs of her fluids, then wiping his cock and balls. By the time she finished, he was becoming hard again.

"My God, you're insatiable!" She exclaimed.

"Remember this night, Isobel. I may not be able to perform like this all the time, but you must remember, I've craved you almost from the moment I met you; skinny little thing though you were, and I went weeks without being able to indulge my yearnings. Finally able to have you at last is a dream come true. I've been without female companionship for weeks and storing my lust for this moment. I'm not surprised I can't get enough of you."

"Why? I'm no raving beauty. I'm carrying another man's child and don't even know for certain if it's my former husbands. Why love me?"

"Well, you are beautiful to me, not just your outward appearance, but your inner beauty as well. Your quiet strength, your depth of character, your positive nature. It's not just me that loves you. My brothers and Ailene do as well, Bjarkë, Cyrus, hell, most of the people here on Lady Luck Farm."

"That's only because..." Further discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Frang asked.

"Your breakfast, my Lord," the maid responded.

Isobel pulled the bed linens over herself and Frang went to the door. He made sure she was covered before opening the door enough to admit the tray.

"I can set the food up for you, my Lord."

"Not necessary, lass," he said, looking around the edge of the door. "We're quite undressed in here. Just set the tray on my hand and I'll manage it from here."

"Yes, my Lord." She set the tray on his hand and giving a quick curtsy accompanied by a flash of a smile, she left.

Frang nudged the door closed with his hip and turned the lock.

"Hopefully, we won't be disturbed again today," he said bringing the tray to the bed, his cock bobbing saucily beneath it. "Your breakfast, my Love," setting the tray down on the center of the bed, Isobel moving over so he could do so.